Cabbages and Kings
by TiamatV
Summary: Beach Head and Cover Girl... converse. Or fight. Or... whatever. BH/CG. Finally updated to completion!
1. Acceleration

This chapter is a repost of what was formerly Drabble #3, since it's now acquired an actual sequel. (Though I guess even in its original form, a 1,500 word drabble isn't really a drabble...) If you're looking for the follow-up, it's the next chapter. ^_^

Just so you're forewarned, this whole story is entirely done in dialogue. Beach calling Cover Girl Cinderella and Barbie doll comes from other fanfic, because I'm pretty sure they never had much interaction in the comics, and I really don't remember what kind of interaction they had in the TV series. Why, yes, I am totally ignoring comic canon romance, and no, the Joes are still not mine. Why do you ask? ^_~

* * *

**Part 1: Acceleration**

Summary: Everyone's got a first-time story, but some people have got more interesting ones than others...

* * *

"So… tell me about your first time."

"Hah! Wait 'til I tell the guys. Get a couple of snifters of the good stuff into Master Sergeant Wayne Sneeden, and he actually starts caring about people's personal lives!"

"You gonna answer the question or what, Cover Girl? And _what_ are you doing?"

"Just checking to make sure you're still you."

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean? What are you—ah. Hey."

"You know, your voice just got real soft all of a sudden, right there. You _sure_ you're Beach Head?"

"What the fuck—are you _sniffing _me?"

"Mmm. Like I said. Checking that you're not a… I dunno, a clone or something. Because for one thing, you smell really good."

"_Huh?_ Barbie doll, get your face the Hell away from me."

"Buuuuut you're still a grouch. Heh. And here I thought I was going to have to call the thought police. For that, I'm having another shot. Mmmm… whooo, this is _really_ tasty. Where'd it come from, again?"

"My sister sends me a bottle for my birthday every year. And _you_ get to pay for that shot with the story."

"For bourbon that smooth… sure. You're getting gypped, though. Not much to tell, really. It was… like everyone's first time, I guess? Good things and bad things, things that could have gone better… but, in retrospect, it could have gone _so_ much worse."

"I guess? How old were you?"

"Fifteen, thereabouts, I guess."

"_Fifteen?_"

"Yeah… I guess I was a little young. Some people are younger, though, aren't they? How old were you?"

"Not the point, and we are _not_ going there right now. Goddamn it, Cinderella. If I ever get my hands on the bastard dung-eating maggot who took advantage of you…"

"Oh, _Beach_. He wasn't that much older than I was. He had just the _sweetest_ ride: a vintage '67 Corvette, fully restored. Jet black, looked like it could outrun a BMW without even moving. His parents got it for him for his eighteenth birthday."

"_Eighteenth_—"

"Well, yeah. Like I said, a little older. I knew him 'cause he was a friend of my brother's. They played sports together, and he was over at my house a lot. And he thought I was cute. He was a nice guy, though. Even if he was a rich kid. Um… Wayne?"

"What."

"You're going to crack a molar if you keep grinding your teeth that way, and I don't think dental's covered in our health plan. Look, you asked."

"Yeah."

"If you don't want to hear it, I really don't care, that's fine with me."

"I'm… fine. I'm cool. No problem."

"Uh… ri-ight. That was definitely more than a shot you just took. That was like… a swig on steroids."

"You gonna hassle me about one drink, or you gonna talk?"

"Most people say 'please,' you know."

"_Cover Girl_…"

"And what makes you think he took advantage of me? Really, I feel more like I took advantage of _him_. I mean… it was all my idea."

"Wha—dollface, you did _not _just say… _What?_"

"Hah. Wow. Go me. I've actually managed to shock Beach Head silent."

"Krieger, what were you _thinking?_"

"Don't bark in my ear. We're having a nice drink, not doing PT. Look, I was young. I was thinking he seemed… playful, like the kind of guy who would be up for a little… you know, good old-fashioned fun. And he had a _really_ nice car."

"Good… old-fashioned… and basically 'cause you've got a hard-on for his goddamned _Corvette_? Ah, _fuck_. I've got a headache."

"I did _not _have a hard-on for his car."

"Sure sounds like it."

"_Nooooooo_ hard-on. Female, remember?"

"Oh, fuck, yes, I remember, all right."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothin'. No-thing."

"If I'd known you were going to make such a big deal of it, I wouldn't have told you."

"You've started, might as well finish."

"Are you going to be a bastard about it?"

"No."

"Beach, I don't believe you. You're always a bastard."

"I'm gonna let that one slide, but you're gonna be screaming for mercy come the next time you have PT with me, Corporal Krieger. Finish the goddamned story."

"Well, we started out on this little private side road, right? No-one there, no cops or anything. _I_ thought I was doing pretty well, all things considered, my first time and all. Sure, I was a little clumsy at first, but he didn't seem too worried. And it was fun, but… I dunno, it just wasn't _enough._"

"Not… enou… okay. Okay. Yeah. Go on."

"You've got this really big blood vessel pulsing in your temple. I've never seen that before. Uh… okay, you don't have to glare like that. So I figured, hey, why not, maybe with a little convincing, maybe we can get a little motion going… if you know what I mean?"

"…motion?"

"Yeah. You know, it was pretty early in the day, before all the rush hour stuff started. Or maybe it was a weekend… yeah, you know, now that I think about it, it _was _a weekend. So I figured we could get some, like… highway kind of action. A car like that, it's made for really _moving_, not just sneaking around in a little alleyway."

"You. Went out. On the highway."

"Sure. Took some convincing, but in the end, he just couldn't say no. Almost crashed the car, but oh, man, _so_ worth it! It was… wow. What a rush—it went from 'okay, a little weird' to 'amazing.' I swear, I fell in love right then."

"Goddamn it, you little Barbie-headed idiot, you coulda been _killed! _What the bleedin' Hell were you doin', fuckin' around on the highway?! And without a seat belt on?! Hell, it's a miracle that pretty little head of yours didn't go flyin' through the windshield!"

"Your accent's gotten _really _strong, you know that? Of course I was wearing a seat belt. What kind of moron do you think I am?!"

"What?! How the Hell were you wearing a seat belt?!"

"The _normal_ way! How else do people wear seat belts? You know, you sit down, you take the little metal thing, you pull it across, you plug it in the other side…"

"Look, wiseass—"

"Just because it was my first time behind the wheel didn't mean I knew _nothing_!

"What?!"

"Goddamn, I should _hit_ you for being so shocked. You think I'd take out someone's 'Vette without knowing a little something about driving? I'm probably the _only_ first-timer you'll ever meet who didn't stall a manual transmission! Why? 'Cause I _knew what I was doing_, and I'm sure you'd realise that if you ever yanked that _surgically implanted_ _stick out of your_—"

"Wait. Wait. Courtney, goddamn it, slow it down. What…you were… talking about your first time _driving_?"

"Yeah, duh! Why? What the Hell did you think I was talking about—Wayne? What's going--mmph?! Ah… _mmmm_."

"Ah."

"Mmhmm. _Mmmmm_."

"Oh. Ah. Fuckin' _blazes_."

"Beach… did you just…"

"S'nothing. Just… s'nothing."

"Oh. Wow. Wayne."

"Cover Girl..."

"Don't you even _start _with my code name. You… kissed me. That's not…"

"Uh… I… ah, _fuck_, give me that bourbon, Courtney."

~fin~

Start: May 18, 2009  
End: May 23, 2009

* * *

Hey, what can I say: my first experience (driving) was disastrous, and many, many years ago, but not everyone's has to be, right? -chuckle-

What? You knew that twist was coming... didn't you? ^_~ I was contemplating leaving out the kiss at the end, but you couldn't possibly expect me to have NO romance in a story, could you?


	2. Amplitude

-chuckle- I can't believe that silly little driving drabble actually spawned a new idea... and, man, in such an incredibly cliche setting, too! I should be ashamed of myself. But I had a ton of fun writing it, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did!

* * *

**Part 2: Amplitude**

Summary: Really, why _would_ anyone want to dance with the grumpiest Joe at the party?

* * *

"You realize, right, that the only reason I'm doing this is because I owe you?"

"Oh, thanks, Beach. I didn't realize that one dance at a formal function was such a damned chore."

"Yeah, well. 'Case you haven't noticed, Princess, I ain't the dancin' type."

"Oh, I don't know, I've seen you run those obstacle courses. Here. Look, we're not even standing in the middle of the dance floor."

"Fine. One dance. Right?"

"Just one."

"And all I gotta do is stand here?

"A little swaying would be appreciated, but… sheesh. Yeah, that's it, pretty much.

"And then we're even."

"We're even."

"Fine."

"Fine. See? Here... Beach, are you freakin' kidding?"

"What?"

"You're so far away from me you're practically bent over."

"So?"

"So get your ass closer over here."

"No thanks. What, aren't you gonna tell me you don't bite, Cinderella?"

"Well, I could. It'd be a lie, though."

"What the fuck--"

"Truthfully, I prefer to nibble. But, fortunately for you, I don't have rabies."

"Cover Girl..."

"Hah, listen to that growl. Kidding, kidding!"

"You think I don't know that?!"

"That I'm kidding, or that I don't have rabies? Hey, you never know, with you. When's the last time _you_ got your vaccine?"

"Goddamn it. Why do I put up with this shit?!"

"Because if I told anyone you kiss--"

"Keep your voice down!"

"I don't even understand why you're so worried. I could tell every person on the team, and no-one would believe it. Stop scowling. Besides, no-one's even listening."

"Yeah? That your special model-microphone tellin' you that?"

"Fuck you, Beach. No, they're too busy gaping. And giggling about the fact that we could probably have an entire other Joe between us. Give me your hands--"

"Hey! What're you--"

"Mm. There. Isn't that better? You don't have to stoop."

"I... ah... ah... whatever, Cinderella. Why is this song so long?"

"Because it just started. Look, it's not that different from what you were doing before, it's just that your arms are actually _around_ me now. We're not doing the bump and grind or anything."

"Blazes, girl, did you have to put it that way?"

"Geez, you're acting like a boy at his middle school Spring Fling."

"A Spring... wha?"

"You know, I almost said prom, but I'm sure you didn't go. And I'm pretty sure I never danced with anyone who acted like I was nuclear at _my _prom. Don't worry, Beach, your virtue's intact."

"You think it's fun making me do this, Cover Girl?!"

"I mean... well, yeah, actually, I do."

"I swear, the next time you're running obstacles with me..."

"You're the one who couldn't keep his liiiips off miiine…"

"Damn it--keep your voice... and I was drunk!"

"Yeah, I could tell. You don't know how to be drunk."

"Yeah, apparently, if I'm doing dumb things like… and how the Hell would you know?"

"You think I can't tell when a man's had too much? Oh, please, Beach. The day _you _voluntarily go anywhere near me, you've got to be three sheets to the wind and four cups in the toilet. Remember, I spent a whole career watching men make idiots of themselves around me."

"What do you mean, 'spent?' The motor pool jockeys _still_ lose brain cells the moment you breathe anywhere around them. If I have to kick one more of those maggots into shape and make them pay attention when you come trotting out for PT in that little sleeveless shirt-thing..."

"Now I am officially shocked. Beach Head noticing an outfit. The world just ended."

"I'm still a guy, and I ain't blind, Cinderella. I just don't _care_."

"Hm. Yes, yes, I'd noticed you were a guy."

"You must think ol' Beach Head is stupid, if you're expectin' me to go anywhere near that comment. Blazes, Princess, if you wanted to dance so bad, why didn't you get one of _them_ to dance with you?"

"Didn't want to dance with them."

"And forcing me to dance with you is so much better?"

"You're not going to try and grab my ass, stick your hand up the slit on my skirt, or rub up against my stomach. So… yes?"

"Wha--who the Hell would do that?!"

"Eh, you know those 'motor pool jockeys' you were talking about?"

"Fuck. Cover Girl, I'm going to kill them."

"I hate to tell you this, Ranger Man, but it's really adorable when you get all protective."

"I ain't being protective, Barbie Doll. Your 'buddies' aren't being professional. What, you think it's okay for a soldier to be pullin' that kind of shit on his teammates, whether they're men, women, or fuckin' winged monkeys?!"

"That depends? Don't glare at me like that, I know your opinion on frat regs. It's all in good fun, Beach. I'm serious. Clutch… well, Clutch does the funky chicken every time he's on the dance floor, but the rest of them aren't too bad. Hector's actually really good at bump-and-grind, you know. Sea legs, I guess."

"Aw, Hell. 'Scuse me while I vomit."

"And if anyone gets to kill them for putting their hands on me, it's _me_."

"Mmm. Hmmm."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just the look on your… nothing. Anyway. You still haven't explained."

"Why I'd want to kill them? I'd think that'd be—"

"No, Princess. Why _me_?"

"You know, if that hadn't been a growl, it'd have been a whine? I wanted to dance, and you looked like the best option. At the time, anyway."

"What, Duke was taken?"

"He was talking to the General. I'll dance with him later."

"…"

"_Now _why are you grinding your teeth? Awww… aww, look. Aren't they cute?"

"They're a pain in the military ass, that's what they are. They think that just 'cause they're tagged for all these top-secret missions, they can… hey. Wait a cotton-pickin' minute. _They're_ not dancing all snuggled up!"

"Neither are we. They're also smiling at each other, Beach. It makes a difference. Jesus, I can just imagine the look on Snake-Eyes' face if you ever tried to warn him away from his girl."

"There wasn't any _look_. Man was wearing that mask of his."

"…oh, God. You _didn't_."

"If they want to bust frat regs wide open, it's their damned careers. I just wanted to make sure the ninja knew exactly what he was risking, fooling around with her."

"Lord, you are _so_ lucky Snakes knows how to keep a secret."

"He's got _too_ many secrets."

"Yes, but he's also got a girlfriend with a serious possessive streak, so just thank your lucky stars, okay? Besides, everyone's got their secrets."

"I don't."

"Everyone does."

"Fine, then. Tell me one."

"Wha--?"

"You said everyone's got secrets. Prove it. What's one of yours?"

"You know, Beach, the last time you asked me anything about my personal life…"

"…yeah, we ended up right here, so why are you complaining? Come on, Cinderella."

"Riiight, 'cause I'm going to be sharing secrets with a PT demon who won't even hold me close during a slow—_oh_."

"Better?"

"Oh. Um. I… _geez_, you're built. Yeah… uh, forget I said that. You first."

"Told you, I ain't got—"

"Any secrets, yeah, yeah. What's something you've never told anyone?"

"Huh."

"See, that's what you call a _secret_. Tell."

"Hmmm. I think… okay. There's one…"

"…Yeah?"

"…"

"Am I going to need to go for the feathers and dirty socks?"

"I think you look really gorgeous tonight. Damned good, Courtney. Shit. There."

"Oh. I… I… oh. Um. I didn't… oh. Thank… thank you, Beach."

"I mean, it ain't much of a secret, you bein' what you were, but… s'all I got. Your turn."

"Okay. I… um. You know when you kissed me?"

"Freakin' _A_, girl—how many times do I have to bang into your head that—"

"Shhh."

"…"

"Number one: note to self—touching Beach Head's mouth shuts him up. Amazing. Number two: no-one was listening then, and with Jaye and Flint making out over there, they're definitely not listening now. You gonna let me finish?"

"I swear, Cover Girl, you stick your finger anywhere near my mouth again, and you're gonna _see_ who bites."

"Oh, so you can prove to me you've got rabies? Like I was saying—when you kissed me… _stop_ grumbling. It was _the_ best kiss I've ever had."

"…"

"I mean, that's… kind of tragic, really, if you think about it, hottest kiss of my life coming from a hard-ass Ranger topped off on Kentucky bourbon, but…"

"I… ah, _fuck_. Cover Girl…"

"Yeah. Pathetic. I know, you don't need to tell _me_ that. See, that's what happens when you ask about secrets. Anyway… song's over."

"Yeah. Guess it is."

"You can let go of me, now, Wayne."

"I… yeah. In a second."

"Huh?"

"…I wasn't drunk, Cinderella. Wasn't even buzzed."

"…"

"Just… yeah. You gonna get your arms out from around my neck?"

"…um. Oh! Sure. Uh… I… I… knew that. Oh."

"Right. Sure. Anyway."

"Thanks. For… you know. The dance. Consider your… um… debt paid."

"I will. You… uh… I'm getting myself a drink. You… you want something?"

"Oh… I… I guess… a shot of bourbon, please. Hmmm? Wayne, what's… you're smiling."

"Nothin', darlin'. It's nothin'."

~fin~

Start: June 03, 2009  
End: June 05, 2009

Okay, these dialogue stories between Beach Head and Cover Girl are a lot more fun to write than they really should be. –laugh- The original ending to this one was a kiss, too, but I retooled it, and I think it works better this way, considering the setting.

Why, yes, I am actually aware that this conversation goes on for longer than most any normal slow song. Or any song, for that matter. It runs about eight minutes. (And, yes, I was actually a dork and read it out. Mostly to the sound of Elliot Yamin's "Wait For You," and Secondhand Serenade's "Fall For You." It struck me, at the time, as being very appropriate: "Best thing 'bout tonight's that we're not fighting," indeed. ^_~)

Please let me know if you have any interest in seeing any more BH/CG… I don't have any really good plot bunnies right now, but there's something about writing friction rather than sweetness that makes me smile. –grin- And, of course, all comments and criticism are incredibly welcome!


	3. Acidic

Yup, it's official... BH/CG have eaten my brain... ^^; I don't know where this story is going, necessarily, but I DO know that these two are already begging for yet more conversations...

* * *

**Acidic**

Summary: Hey, everyone's got to have an off-day sometime...

* * *

"Hey. Cover Girl—"

"Can we not do this right now? I'm having a bad day, Beach."

"Yeah? No kidding. You were a fuckin' mess out there. What the Hell happened to you?"

"_Really _not in the mood for this, Beach Head."

"Uh-huh, I can see that. If your body language got any more stiff, we could use you as rebar. You're definitely tall enough."

"Oh—fuck you very much, Master Sergeant!"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause _that's_ a smart thing to say to your upper-level in charge of PT? You are going to be so sore after I've had my way with you tomorrow morning, Cinderella, that you're gonna be lyin' facedown on top of that tank of yours, cryin' for your prince to come save you!"

"Did you not hear me the first time? Fuck. You."

"You do not talk to me like that, _Corporal_."

"What're you gonna do, Beach—spank me?"

"You keep actin' like a brat, and _yeah_, I'll turn you over my knee!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Your hand across my ass? Make you feel more like a man, huh—ow! What're you—you can't come into my room!"

"Girl, if you are spoilin' for a fight, you're gonna have it, but we are _not_ doin' this in the hallway. Close the door."

"Or what?"

"Close. The. Door. If I have to repeat myself again, you're not gonna like it."

"You know what, Wayne? I am so sick of your autocratic bullcrap. I have _one_ rough day out on the obstacle course, and all of a sudden, you're at my door?! Yeah, sure, sure, you being a jerk is nothing new, but now you're riding my ass like I got someone killed on the field! Whatever, maybe I deserve a dressing-down for how badly I did today, but didn't you have enough of chewing me out in front of the whole team out there—"

"Cover Girl—"

"—but no, after all the push-ups, after making me run around the track until my knees gave out and Duke had to catch me before I cracked my skull on the pavement, after sending me through that course so many times I swear the leeches in that mud pile can taste my fucking blood just from the smell of me coming at them… all of a sudden you're here, in my room, in my private space, to chew me yet _another_ new one—"

"Whoa, girl, just a—"

"—I don't know _where_ you think you get off, Master Sergeant, coming to my quarters to ream me out! I know that _you_ don't have a life, but the rest of us expect that if we're not on call, we're not on call. It doesn't mean I won't be ready if that page comes in, but—"

"_Courtney,_ will you just—"

"—I've always carried my own weight. Always. You should goddamned well _know _that by now. I might have one bad day on the courses, but what the Hell, those courses are just practice! Pra-a-actice. They're not the real thing, they're not the _mission_, and sometimes I think you forget that in that screwed-up little PT world you inhabit—"

"_SHUT UP AND STAND DOWN, KRIEGER!_"

"…"

"You done?"

"Actually, I—"

"I said. _Are. You. Done?"_

"…"

"Thank _God_. Jesus Christ, you can yap. I was about to take some duct tape to your mouth."

"Whatever. You done insulting me, McGyver."

"Not hardly. You gonna zip it?"

"Will you go away if I do?"

"Every word of mouthy commentary is buying you more pain, Cinderella."

"Fine. Fine. You know what? Go ahead. Say what you need to say. You can't _possibly_ make my day any worse."

"Look. I… ah, Hell. This is all screwed up ten ways from frickin' Saturday."

"Huh?"

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, that's all."

"Happy… _huh_?"

"What? It _is_ your birthday, ain't it?"

"I… well… I mean… yes. It's been… Wayne, but…"

"But what?"

"That's… it?"

"Yeah."

"_That's_ why you came to see me?"

"That's it."

"That's… you weren't going to yell at me?"

"Y'know, I'm pretty sure that's what 'that's it' means."

"Oh."

"Yeah. You think I couldn't see things weren't quite right with you out there? I ain't in the habit of kickin' people when they're already down, Courtney. And I definitely ain't going to their private quarters to do it. I don't know what the Hell you think of me, but… shit. You know what? Never mind."

"I… I'm… oh, God, I'm…"

"Whatever, Princess."

"Beach …"

"Don't matter. Get your pretty little act together, screw that head of yours back on straight, and we'll just forget this ever happened."

"Beach—_Wayne, _wait, I—"

"I've got things to do, Princess. Let go of my arm."

"No. No, I… look. I was out of line."

"Yeah. Yeah, you sure as Hell were. I'm gonna let this slide, Cover Girl, but the next time you talk to me like that—"

"I know. I know. I _know_, I'm sorry, it's just… I'm sorry. You _shouldn't _let this slide. I don't… I just… you just blindsided me when you came to my door."

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us!"

"I wasn't thinking. It's a rotten excuse. You're my friend, Wayne. I don't… I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"It's _not._"

"Yeah, it is. Or it will be if you make it up to me tomorrow."

"What—how will I… oh. Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"Yeah, I'll be the best damned soldier on that hellish obstacle course, Master Sergeant."

"That's right, Corporal. You'd better be."

"…"

"I'm waiting here, Cover Girl. Where's my 'sir, yes, sir?' I'm expectin' higher PT scores out of you tomorrow than anyone else: man, woman, dog, or freaky ninja in black pajamas."

"………heh. Sir, yes, sir!"

"See, _there's_ my girl."

"Wha—what did you say?!"

"What? I almost wasn't recognizing you without that smirk on your face."

"Hah! Oh! Screw you, Beach."

"Oh, what, you offering, now?"

"And with that highly disturbing glimpse into your dreams, you can march your tight-assed way out of my quarters now, thanks!"

"You started it, just you remember that. See you tomorrow, Princess. O-four-hundred."

"O-four-wha--?! Okay. Okay. Yeah. O-four-hundred, tomorrow. Hey, Wayne?"

"Hm?"

"You're not drunk, are you?"

"What?! No, I'm not drunk—why the fuck would you think I was—_mmph!_"

"Mmmmh."

"…ah. Ah."

"Oh. Mmm. Oh, _wow_. Mmm. Phew."

"What the Hell was that?!"

"No particular reason. I just… mmh. Really needed that."

"God_damn_. You are fuckin' Looney Tunes, you know that, Cinderella?!"

"Don't give me that—you're not one to talk. For one, you started it. For another, _you_ just kissed me back."

"Beautiful woman's got her lips on mine, you think I'm gonna say no? I ain't no Rhodes Scholar, but no-one's _that_ stupid."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, hardass."

"Remind me not to do _you_ any more favors, Princess. What the Hell's been the matter with you today, anyway? Aren't birthdays supposed to be, like… happy, or some shit?"

"Long story. I don't want to talk about it. And you don't want to hear it."

"You're right. I don't. Hey. How old _are_ you?"

"Mmph. How old are _you_?"

"Thirty-two."

"Wow. You're… oh. Really? I thought you were younger. You've really been in the military almost half your _life_?"

"Damned straight, Cinderella. And proud of it."

"Don't you even think about what life would've been like if you'd done something else?""

"Nope. And you think I can't see you're avoiding the question? Blazes. Seriously, Cover Girl, you must actually think I'm a moron."

"…damn it. Aw, _Beach,_ don't you know you're not supposed to ever ask a woman her age? It's not polite."

"Do I look polite to you?"

"Mm. Ugh. Point. Well… how old do you think I am?"

"I dunno. Thirty, thirty-one, maybe?"

"Thir—get the Hell away from me!"

"Ow! What? What?"

"_BEACH!_"

~fin~

Start: June 06, 2009  
End: June 07, 2009

* * *

-shakes head in amazement at characters- Oh, Wayne. That… was not a smart move at all. And no, I haven't the faintest idea why Courtney's so grumpy. -laugh- Yeah, I know it wasn't as silly as the last two, but they've got to have their serious moments as well, right?

My thanks to the lovely reviewer **Psyk2**, from whence the original inspiration for this came. I realize it has nothing to do with swats, but, for some reason, 'birthday' and 'swat' equated 'argument' in my head…


	4. Anastomosis: Scalpel

**Anastomosis: Scalpel**

Summary: Some people regress. Some people... don't.

* * *

"Nnn… ah? Oh. Ah. Hey. Darlin'."

"Hey. Hey, there, Ranger Man. Welcome back."

"Mmh. You're a heck of a sight to wake up to, you know that?"

"Wha… Heh. Aww! Oh, Beach Head, you are _so_ going to be mad at yourself when you're more awake…"

"What d'you mean, Princess? Hey, what're you doin' in my… wait… why're you holdin' my hand—wait, what in the blue _blazes_—"

"Yep, there we go. Whoa, easy there. Don't sit up. Hey!"

"Cover Girl? What's—where the Hell—"

"_Easy_, Beach. S'okay. Easy. You're in the hospital. You're just waking up."

"What?! Why am I… and why does my voice sound…"

"Lie _down, _damn you, before I have to sit on you. I will hold you down, just you watch."

"Pfft, you kidding, I could bench press you with one arm! Just you try it, Cinderella, just you—"

"You know how pissed you're going to be if I actually _can? _Don't you remember what happened? C'mon, Beach, right now you're numero uno on the injured list.."

"Wha—someone took me down in battle? _Shit_."

"Er… uh… that'd be a negative, Master Sergeant."

"_Cover Girl…_"

"You, uh… you kind of… collapsed, more like."

"I did wha—_ah_—_fuckin' A_—OW!"

"Oh, geez, Beach! Don't sit up like that, you're gonna pop your staples or split your stitches open or… or something!"

"_Staples? _What the _fuckin' Hell is goin' on here, Cover Girl?!_"

"Oh, stop yelling. You're going to scare the nurses, and not even _you _can be intimidating in a hospital gown, let me tell you."

"When I get my hands on you, Princess—"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll make me do push-ups with my nose, or something equally creative and painful. Look, if you just relax some, I'll tell you what happened."

"No. I need some water—my mouth feels like damned Trucial Abysmia."

"Uh… that'd be a 'negative' on the water, too, Beach. Doctor's orders. No eating, no drinking, or you might… explode, or something. Hey—don't pull on that!"

"What do you mean, don't pull on it, it's a fuckin' tube up my nose!"

"Yeah, and you probably need it! Simmer _down, _Wayne!"

"Are _you _telling _me _what I can and cannot do, _Corporal_?!"

"Yes! I mean—seriously, I think your body's telling you that! I'm serious, Beach. Ease up. Come on, please. You're really gonna hurt yourself again."

"…Again, huh?"

"Yeah. Again. You had us all really worried for awhile, there… you've been totally out of it for… I think it's been five days."

"Five… days. Ah, _fuck_. I… ah… so you gonna… tell me why the Hell can't I feel my legs?"

"You can't feel your—?! Oh. Oh, wait. That's right. Your legs are fine. Um, you've got a pain catheter in your back. A… whatsit, an epidural. Like they give pregnant ladies, you know?"

"_What the Hell—_"

"…wow, that was an _amazingly_ stupid choice of words on my part. Let me rephrase. Okay. You're waking up from surgery. The pain catheter is in your back because you've got a big honking scar across your belly, and I'm pretty sure they had to cut muscle to get where they needed to be. And you can't eat or drink because you had surgery on your belly. There's a big sign over your head."

"So why's it my throat that's killing me? My voice sounds weird."

"Oh, I dunno, I think it's kinda sexy. All gravelly."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're makin' fun now, Cinderella, but once I'm outta here…"

"Uh-huh. Two words, again. 'Hospital gown.' Not even a little bit scary."

"I got a _real _long memory, Princess, just you remember that. You're not tellin' me something real important, here, Cover Girl. What did I get surgery for? Somethin' must've clocked me _real_ hard—I don't even remember the mission…"

"There wasn't any mission, you hard-headed PT demon. You know what, that's right, I've got a bone to pick with you. _Why_ didn't you tell someone you were sick?"

"Sick? I wasn't sick."

"My _ass _you weren't sick!"

"What the Hell are you getting' all hysterical about?"

"_Hysterical—_Beach Head, right now, you're on the injured list, so I'm not going to hit you. But when you're out of this damned place, you and I, we are gonna have it out _so _hard—okay. You telling me you _weren't_ in some kind of pain? Feeling rotten? Throwing up?"

"What're you… oh, you mean _that? _I wasn't at my peak, but Hell, Cinderella, you think a little bellyache's gonna keep me down? So I had some bad gumbo, big deal—"

"A little bellyache—Beach, you had appendicitis!Snake-Eyes found you down when you missed hand-to-hand… you were lying on the floor in your quarters! Hell, you were so delirious you gave poor Snakes a black eye when he tried to see if you were okay!"

"I… I _what?!_"

"You heard me—Lifeline almost had a heart attack, your fever was so high! They airlifted you out—even LL thought you were going to die, you big stupid macho idiot! And all Hawk would tell us was, 'he's getting the best medical care available; I know you're worried, but you've got jobs to do!' He wouldn't even tell us where you were!"

"Mmm. Yeah. Good advice. Hawk's a good man."

"…"

"What? Don't give me that look."

"_Beach…"_

"You know it's true. If I went down… well, fuck, if I went down on the field and stayed down, you'd damned well keep goin', right? Ain't nothing you coulda done for me. Might as well get back to work. You thinkin' of me or not thinkin' of me, don't make no difference to me, but if the mission's not right, someone's gonna die. The job always comes first. I haven't got time for tears and worrywarts."

"…"

"You hearin' me?"

"Yeah. Sure. Right. Of course."

"Whoa—what're you getting all your panties in a bunch—"

"You know what, I'm done. I'm out of here. Nice to see you're going to live… I guess. I've got to go… get back to the Pit. You know how it is."

"What the fu—Cinderella, you _cryin'_?!"

"No! You know what, Beach? If you can't appreciate the fact that I was worried sick about you—but… you know what? No. I'm the stupid one. See you later, Ranger Man. I'll tell the team you're doing fine. Back to your old self, in fact."

"Courtney—wait—I didn't—ah, _fuck_."

* * *

To be continued... yes, I actually did just write that.

The author has only one thing to say: -sigh- Oh, Beach Head, you _moron_.


	5. Anastomosis: Hand Tie

**Anastamosis: Hand-Tie**

Summary: ...and sometimes it takes a little anesthesia for people to say what they really mean.

* * *

"Are you… miss Krieger? I think I spoke to you on the phone. Ah… oh. Are you... okay?"

"Hmmm? Oh… hello. Yes. Yes, I'm... fine. I'm fine. Are you… you're his surgeon, right?"

"Doctor Marinello, yes. How is he?"

"He's fine, I think. Far as I can tell. He doesn't like not being able to get up or have a drink, though."

"Oh, you can say _that_ again."

"Uh-oh. What do you mean? I mean, he's being… nevermind. As far as grumpy goes, he's really not that bad today…"

"Not that… hah! I'll have to tell the nursing staff that."

"Really? I always thought nurses were pretty tough. I mean… I've been in the hospital, they don't normally let someone being grouchy get in their way."

"You're absolutely correct. They don't."

"_Uh_-oh. Ma'am, I can see 'something you're not telling me' coming at me from all the way down the hall…"

"Miss Krieger, didn't you wonder why you were the only one in that room?"

"I mean… no, not really."

"Oh, our nursing staff is excellent, and very attentive… normally. But every time Sergeant Sneeden's woken up to find someone within arm's reach, he's threatened them with serious, ah, bodily harm if they approach him. We're lucky he still has an IV site; I don't know that nursing would be able to get another one, and I don't even want to _think_ about his central line. We haven't even been able to get blood pressures on him."

"Oh… _Wayne, you idiot_… I'm so sorry, Doc."

"It's really all right, miss. I understand that the disorientation following a surgery and anesthesia—especially with the massive infection he had—can be worse for members of our Armed Forces… you know, all things considered. I once had a patient wake up and think he was in Afghanistan…"

"Oh. Uh… Yeah. He… I think he'll be better now. I _think_."

"Heh, yes, I suspect so. Often, having a visitor will do that."

"Oh. So… why did you call me? Why not General Hawk?"

"Hmmm? Who?"

"Uh… General Abernathy. His CO, his commanding officer."

"I did call General… Abernathy, was it? He was listed as the contact number. But… you understand, this isn't a VA facility, and you were the one Sergeant Sneeden was asking for when he woke up. Generally, we try and accommodate those requests—patient first, you know."

"He was… asking for… _me_? Wait, wait. What? But you told me when we talked on the phone that he was still asleep…"

"Oh, he was… well, in a manner of speaking. People wake up a number of times, after surgery, and he'd just gotten some Versed. It's a sedative."

"Oh. So he's been awake?"

"Er… yes and no? Sergeant Sneeden woke up in our post-anesthesia unit, after he was extubated this morning. Caused quite a stir, let me tell you! Then he started trying to tear out his lines, and that's why he got the Versed."

"Oh, _no…_"

"Heh, Miss Krieger, it happens. We're used to it. Many patients don't even remember it happened at all, and most, well, they don't remember a _thing_ that they're told post-anesthesia. But he kept asking for 'Courtney,' and in the interest of, er, preserving the peace, I asked his commanding officer who that was, and if she could be reached. He was the one who gave me your number."

"You asked Hawk if… oh, brother."

"Is this a… problem? Most people would like to be with their loved ones in their convalescence, especially after a time like he's had. I can have nursing bring over a cot or recliner, if you would like to stay over tonight."

"Uh… but I'm not family, or anything."

"Oh, goodness. That's really all right. He's stable, and we're not the Catholic church; significant others can stay overnight if they want to."

"I… this is awkward. Ma'am… let's start again. I'm _Corporal_ Courtney Krieger. He and I serve together. I'm, uh, not his girlfriend."

"…oh. _Oh_. Oh, no. I'm so sorry, I just… oh, geez. I'm sorry."

"I, uh… it's… no problem, doctor."

"That… well, that makes a lot more sense, now."

"It does?"

"Well, yes. I wasn't there when he woke up, you understand, but the PACU nursing staff said that he kept yelling for you to 'sing out.'"

"Hah! Yeah. He would."

"It was just… I don't know, perhaps I'm misconstruing things, but he seems rather fond of you. Am I wrong?"

"Actually, if you asked him, he'd probably tell you I'm his cross to bear. And then... he'd probably go on in that vein for awhile."

"Really? But he kept calling you 'darlin'' and 'Princess,' so we just sort of assumed…"

"You're very good at imitating his accent, you know. Oh. He… oh, yeah. He calls me that, sometimes. He calls me Cinderella, too… right before he makes me run laps. Frankly, he'll call people whatever suits him."

"Hah! That I _will_ believe. I'm so sorry you went through all the trouble to come here… What with that thing about the snakes, I suppose we really shouldn't have taking his ramblings too seriously."

"…snakes? What about snakes?"

"Oh—something about how he'd, quote, 'wipe out every damned hissin' cobra in the eff-in' universe if they so much as touched my girl,' unquote. Something like that. People do say _strange_ things coming out from under anesthesia."

"Oh. Um. Cobras, huh. Uh… yeah. Ha ha."

"I really apologize for bringing you all the way here. That'll teach me."

"It's no problem. I wanted to see him, anyway. We've all been… worried."

"Well, it was very good of you to come, my misunderstanding aside. I suppose you're on your way back to base, then? Feel free to call the nursing station if you need any updates—yes, that's the number. And they can page me if you or your commanding officer have any questions they can't answer."

"Um… Doctor Marinello? Can I ask just one more question?"

"Of course, of course."

"How how bad was it, really? So I can, y'know, take an update back to the guys."

"Well… how much do you want to know?"

"Tell it to me straight, ma'am."

"Ah… honestly? He's just… incredibly lucky. It was one of the worst cases of peritonitis—um, that's inflammation inside the abdomen—that I've ever seen, Corporal. He was septic; that was why we had to go back in."

"Septic? Go back… in? In where? Wait, what? For an _appendix?_"

"Yes? Well… in a manner of speaking? It wasn't just inflamed, it'd ruptured, and from how unstable he was when he got here, not recently, either. During the surgery… well, never mind that. He must have been in agony—I really don't know how it got that bad."

"Oh, Lord. I do. So… so what happened? He got better, right?"

"Worse before it got better, Corporal. We rushed him to the OR and took out that appendix, but the damage was pretty much already done, by then. He's really been touch-and-go in the ICU for the past few days, and this morning… well, we made the decision to operate again, see if we could clean out the nidus of infection. Looks like we got it, though."

"…oh. Jesus. He's had _two _operations since he's been here?"

"Yes—an appendectomy, and an ex-lap, an exploratory laparotomy. That's why his incision is so large."

"Oh, man. That sounds… really… bad."

"It was. But it could have gone much, much worse. He seems to have tolerated the whole ordeal rather well, actually. Medically, anyway. Oh… is he complaining that his throat hurts?"

"Actually… yes, and his voice sounds really rough…"

"Ah, that's unfortunate. Yes, well, he _has _had a machine breathing for him for the past four days… but other than that, he's made a rather remarkable recovery of it thus far. I admit, I was against extubating him, but it was anesthesia's call, and he woke up right away! Let me tell you, Miss Krieger, it's a pure miracle to see him on the regular floor rather than back in the ICU."

"So… so he's going to be okay, right?"

"Mm-hm. We're going to have to keep him for awhile longer—he needs a metric ton of IV antibiotics—but right now, yes, he's looking like he's going to be fine. Grumpy, perhaps, but fine. You can tell your team that we're watching over him."

"Thanks, ma'am."

"Well, _literally_ just watching over him, since we can't really get any vitals on him… kind of funny, almost. Thank goodness he still has his central line, or else we wouldn't have labs, either."

"Oh… yeah, about that. Tell your people to be careful… I mean, he doesn't mean to be an ass, but he kind of forgets that there are people outside the military who aren't, y'know, actually under his command…"

"It'll be fine. We might not be military, Corporal, but if he doesn't cooperate, I do come armed with succinylcholine."

"What's that?"

"Full-body paralytic."

"…oh, geez. I don't think he's going to like that…"

"I'm just _kidding, _miss Krieger."

"I… I… oh. Heh. Thank you, doc. Thanks so much. Thanks for taking care of him. Even if he is being a pain."

"Not at all. You're very welcome, and thank you for coming to see him. Hopefully, he'll be a bit more cooperative now. Ah—where's my pager—dratted thing. I'm sorry, I have to go. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Um… actually…"

"Yes?"

"Is there any way I could ask someone about that cot you mentioned earlier?"

~fin~

Start: June 8, 2009  
End: June 9, 2009

* * *

Anastomosis = joining two parts together to make them contiguous. ^_~ A hand-tie is one of the ways of bringing the two parts together--slow and tedious and meticulous.

I'm currently giving Courtney an eye-roll: yeah, _that'll_ teach him to watch his mouth, won't it, Cover Girl? Ah, well, I guess she can't help it.

There's no way they would have extubated him postop, if he was actually that sick—he'd have hung around in the ICU for a few more days. But it seemed to work better this way for story purposes, you know? After all, ICU rooms definitely don't allow overnight sleepovers…

I was deciding between pancreatitis, complicated appendicitis, and pneumonia. Surgical solutions are so much more dramatic, but... putting poor Beach through a Puestow or something seemed... excessive. People don't often get septic from perforated appendices, but it happens?

Post-anesthesia disorientation: very true, in some people. The doctor actually telling CG about all this… probably not true. Deus ex machina, anyone?


	6. Arctic

Oh, dear. These two really are taking over, aren't they...

* * *

**Arctic**

Summary: Two words: hypothermia protocol.

**

* * *

**

"C-c-cold…"

"Hey. Hey, I'm gonna turn you over, okay? Just relax. There. That better?"

"W-Wayne…?"

"Mmmhmm. Yeah. It's me, darlin'."

"Ohhh… _ah_. G-god. Can't… can't get… w-warm…"

"Ah! _Ssss…_ _Jesus. _Easy with the cold feet, girl!"

"Wh-what…? Huh?"

"Nothing. Hey, you just rest up. Close your eyes. Just relax."

"But… oh… tired."

"S'okay. I'm here, Courtney, right behind you. Won't let anything happen to you. You just let me take care of you, tough girl, and you work on getting yourself warmed up again."

"You feel good."

"Heh. Go to sleep, darlin'. I'll still be here when you wake up."

*_*_*_*

"Oh. Geez. I really have got to lay off those Cheez-Its before bed… my head is killing—_WHAT THE HELL?!_"

"What—_ouch_!"

"Beach Head?! What's—get your hands _off_ me!"

"Easy! Easy, Cinderella."

"What do you mean, 'easy'—get the Hell—what the—I'm _naked?!_ Why am I—"

"Damn it, lie still, there is _not_ enough room in this damned thermal bag for all of your—_fuck_! Goddamn, those elbows—stop that, damn you! So help me God, Courtney—!"

"That's _my _line! What the fuck happened?!"

"Don't you remember?"

"Remember?! Remember what?! I'm getting the Hell out of—"

"Princess, that ain't a good idea—"

"Don't you _dare _call me that—HOMIGOD it's COLD! _FUCK_!"

"Told you. Get your ass back in here."

"But… what the—close your damned eyes, Beach Head!"

"You ain't got nothin' I haven't seen, touched, or kissed before, Cover Girl. Don't flatter yourself. This is business. I promise, dealin' with your freezing cold little ass ain't a pleasure."

"You _asshole_."

"Telling it like it is. This offer's only good for ten more seconds. Ten… nine… _ah, damn it,_ you did that on purpose!"

"Oh… that's much better."

"Yeah, and your ass is _still_ freezing. God—_freakin' A._ They don't pay me enough for this."

"Oh, shut up. How'd… how'd we end up…"

"We didn't have sex, if that's what you're thinkin'."

"I wasn't—"

"Yeah, you were. No, we didn't. Geez, don't you know better than that by now? You remember what happened?"

"Sure, I remember… we had those stupid Snow-Vipers on the run! Hah—they might as well have been aiming for the _sky! _I could practically drive right around their bullets… the ice treads on the Wolverine are a dream! But… I just… one minute, they were turning around and shooting for me, and the next… yeah, this big _crack. _Then my systems all went out. There was water coming in… it's… it's kind of fuzzy. I remember trying to get out the top, but the hatch was stuck. It was… I felt like I was burning."

"Yeah, the water was just that cold. My guess is that the hatch wasn't stuck, it was the pressure of the water on it, holding it down while you were sinking. The ice under you broke."

"What?! But… Iceberg told us that lake ice was a solid meter thick, even in summer! It should have _held_ the Wolverine!"

"Yeah. That's the thing, isn't it? It should have. 'Cept… you know those APDS rounds you were dodgin' so prettily? The goddamned snakes started aiming for the ice _under _your treads to cover their retreat."

"…oh, those _bastards!_"

"Yeah."

"_That's_ what happened? I went into a Greenland _lake?!_ But… how… wait, but I'm alive. Aren't I? If I'm not, which of the two options is this, exactly?"

"Obviously the dip in the cold didn't do anything for your mouth, Cinderella. Thank the ninja. We saw you go in, and next thing, he's running hell-bent for the water where your tank went down. He didn't suit up, no air-tank, no nothing."

"The… Snake-Eyes went in after me?! Oh, God! Is he okay?"

"Fine. Came swimmin' up while Iceberg was still hauling on the diving gear. Easy as you please, like he was coming off the Florida coast, you over his shoulder. Both of you soaked to the skin, you were blue to your eyeballs and half popsicle… we almost couldn't find a pulse on you, Princess. Of course, _he_ wasn't even shivering."

"Oh. Oh, geez. That… that does sound like Snakes, heh. Now that you mention."

" I'm telling you, there is something just _wrong_ with that man, but damned if I know what it is."

"Right now, I really don't care, Ranger Man. That ninja's getting a big fat kiss on the lips next time I see him, and Red can hurt me for it later."

"Hah!"

"So… huh. So _that's_ why I'm naked?"

"Stop being a brat, Princess. You know the hypothermia protocol, same as I do."

"You people could have at least left me my underwear, Beach!"

"You weren't in any condition to override the arctic survival specialist, let me tell you. What part of 'soaked to the _skin'_ did you not understand? Did you _want_ frostbite of your privates?"

"…a million different ways you could have worded it, and you picked that… so why are _you_ here? Why not someone _else_?"

"Listen to that whine. God, you are a little _bitch _when you're cold. We're all guys here but you, remember? An' I drew the straw."

"You drew _straws_ over who got to stay with me?! Of all the piggish—"

"Goddamn it. We drew straws over who _had_ to stay behind with you, Cinderella!"

"What?!"

"Jesus H. Christ, there's no pleasin' you! You think this is easy?"

"Hah! Beach Head, do you know how much I used to get paid to take off my clothes?!"

"Do I look like I care? You think I wanna be here, lyin' cuddled up with a naked, freezing cold woman I can't even lay a hand on, and knowin' the moment she wakes up she's gonna tear into me? All while our guys are out there actually _finding_ the bastards who put her in the water?!"

"I… oh."

"Yeah, you think about that. And no, I didn't let Snow Job get a pick after I caught him tryin' to rig the straws, so where's my 'thank you?'"

"Oh, sure, I'll give you a 'thank you' you'll _never_—_ow_."

"Hey. Cinderella? What's going on? What's hurting?"

"Yeah. M'fine. Just… ah. My hand won't stop… _ow_… cramping."

"Ah, fuck. Here. Turn towards me. Your arms're probably missing their circulation."

"I… what? No!"

"You want to keep all your fingers, this ain't no time to be getting all missish on me. _Deal__ with it_, soldier."

"I… I… okay, _okay._"

"_Fuck!"_

"Ooooooh. Oh, you're _so_ warm… mmmm."

"Goddamn it, your hands're even colder than your damned feet!"

"…heh."

"YOW! What was that for?!"

"Hah! Made you jump."

"Damn you, girl, that ain't funny—get those ice cube hands the _fuckin' Hell_ off my stomach!"

"Wow. You really _do _have just ridiculous abs, don't you? You know, if this weren't so incredibly awkward, it could almost be funny—_ah—ah, dammit, my stupid hand…_ whoa. Wait a minute, what're you—"

"You have just got the dirtiest mind, you know that?"

"I could have the mind of the Virgin Mary, and, I promise, a guy's hands sliding along my stomach would still make me think the same thing."

"Says the hypocrite who was feelin' up my stomach a second ago?! Look—you were out of it for a damned long time, okay? If I wanted to cop a feel, I'd've done it then. _Relax_."

"Because _that's_ supposed to make me feel better _how_?!"

"Oh for cryin' out—you were the one who stuck your hands between us, and all of a sudden, now that I'm trying to keep you from getting frostbite in your fingers, _I'm _the pervert?"

"Ow! Ow… ooooh… hey… stop that, that…_damn it_, that hurts!"

"The only way to get the blood moving back into your fingers is to rub them, you know that. It's only gonna get worse. I promise, you are gonna have _the _worst pins and needles you'll ever feel in your pretty little life."

"How do you know that?"

"Been in your shoes, darlin'. twenty klicks north of Vladivostok, back before the Joes. Enemy thought it'd be funny to leave me to die in the snow, wearin' nothing but my long johns."

"…oh. What… what happened?"

"Our scout found me during his canvass. Getting to a hospital wasn't an option, since we were there on the… deniable side of the mission parameters."

"So?"

"So… yeah."

"So what _happened?_"

"…my team drew straws."

"Oh. _Oh!_ HAH!"

"Laugh it up, Barbie Doll. Laugh it up. Go on, get it out of your system. I'll give you a second… and then you're going for laps, I shit you not."

"Oh! Oh… _man…_ Beach, you…"

"You tell _anyone_ that story, Cinderella, I'm tellin' the guys you groped me while we were lyin' together naked."

"What—but—I didn't!"

"So?"

"I swear, you are _the _most underhanded bastard…"

"Uh-huh. I might actually believe you if you weren't still smiling."

"…"

"…"

"…this is… weird. Ooooh."

"What, the naked, or the way your hands're feeling?"

"Don't even get me started with the naked. Wait. Whoa, whoa. Are _you_ naked?!"

"One-track mind. I swear."

"It's a perfectly valid question!"

"Why don't you just check for yourself, if you're so curious?"

"Wha—_Beach Head!"_

"You were asking for it. No, Cover Girl. I am not naked. Unlike you, my underwear didn't take a dip in a subzero lake. And before it even floats to that dirty little mind of yours, I didn't undress you, Snake-Eyes did."

"Oh. Oh, ack… now _there_ is something I'm not telling Shana."

"That's the damned smartest thought you've had since you woke up. Maybe the hypothermia _is_ wearing off."

"Ow. I hate you, Beach. I really do. More than anything. _Owwww…_ no… no, wait, I take it back, I hate this place more."

"Yeah."

"Whoever named this place Greenland—"

"Had a really sick sense of humor, yeah."

"Has a really sick sense of humor!"

"…"

"…"

"So…"

"Yeah."

"Why's it I normally can't get you to shut your trap, but all of a sudden you're all quiet?"

"Nnnnh… you were right. These… aaahh… these pins and needles _suck_. Ah—"

"_Nnnh! _Fuck! _Goddamn _it, Cover Girl! _What_ the Hell was _that_?!"

"Sorry. Sorry. Just… I needed a distraction, and your arm was right there…"

"So you decided to _bite _me?! Distract yourself some other damned way!"

"Like how?"

"Talk, damn it! Because if you bite me again, I swear to God I am giving you something else to do with that mouth!"

"That's… Beach, you did _not _just—"

"_Talk, _Barbie Doll!"

"Uh… give me something to talk about!"

"Uh… aw, Hell, I dunno. How'd you end up in modeling, anyway? There a story there?"

"You… actually want to know?"

"You told me to give you something to talk about, you never said I had to give a damn about it. As long as it keeps your teeth the fuck out of my skin, I really do not care."

"A recruiter for an agency—what was it, Elite Model management—was stopping by a competition I was in. He saw the promotional poster, and thought I was… you know, model material. Took three Polaroids, and I figured he was just being kind of a creepy guy, but… the next day, the president of the company called me. And I thought it was a hoax at first, but then, well… they paid for me and my mom to go to New York, to the agency headquarters, and I figured… hey, why not, right? That's it, really."

"What kind of competition was this? And _why_ the blazes was there a model recruiter at it?"

"Uh…mmph."

"Oh, this is gonna be good, I can feel it."

"How'd you come to _that_ conclusion?"

"Doesn't take a brain surgeon."

"What do you mean?"

"Darlin', you realize you ducked your face right into my neck, right? If that wasn't a clue, I don't know what is."

"I… I… oh, shut up. It was the Nationals."

"Uh-huh. For _what,_ Cover Girl?"

"You're going to laugh at me. I can see it."

"Yeah. Yeah, well. Considering the situation, I could use a laugh right about now."

"…"

"And if you don't start speaking up, I'm gonna start guessing, and then you're gonna have to be stuck in a thermal bag naked with someone you're _really_ pissed at."

"…cheerleading, okay?"

"Cheerleading? _You_? You drive a frickin' _tank!_ You retool engines for fun!"

"Yeah, well, if I'd known about tanks in high school, I probably wouldn't have become a model, now, would I?"

"_HAH!_"

"Look, wise guy, in my school, _every_ girl tried out for the pom squad. And I was pretty, and coordinated, so… they took me."

"Hmmm, sounds a bit defensive to _me… _Wait, wait. Pom squad? So… fluffy pom poms and all?!"

"Yes. Pom poms. And all."

"And did you say _Nationals?_"

"…we were pretty good, what can I say?"

"Uh-huh. You'll have to show me your routine, sometime, Cinderella."

"Fuck off, you… you… you _jerk_. I swear, if you tell _anyone_—"

"See, now we're even. How do your fingers feel?"

"I… I… oh. I can feel them again. Hey, they _move_."

"Yeah, fingers do that. Hey… what're you… _wha—_"

"Just getting comfortable, Ranger Man."

"I ain't your pillow. Get comfortable against someone else's chest."

"I would, but unfortunately, Duke's not available."

"…"

"What's the matter, Master Sergeant, you can tease, but you can't take the heat?"

"…I knew I shoulda just let Snow Job rig the damned straws… you think I'm kiddin' about that? He was droolin' right into that red beard of his at the thought of some hypothermia time with you."

"It's really disturbing that I believe you. Um… hey, Beach?"

"What?"

"I'm… glad it's you. Kinda. I guess."

"Huh? Why, Princess?"

"'Cause… 'cause…"

"What?"

"'Cause… I dunno. I just… I know you're not going to make a big deal out of it. I mean, we're friends, sure, but… but if it'd been anyone else, I think… it'd be… I dunno, weird and awkward, later. Wouldn't it? But you… it'll always be… so professional, with you."

"What the Hell else would it be?"

"I know, I know. It's just that… I mean… if I were stuck naked with anyone else, I'm pretty sure most guys would… I don't know. Do something dumb. Or at least react."

"…"

"What?"

"Nothing, girl. Just… nothing."

"_What_? You've got a funny look on your face."

"I told you once before. I'm still a guy, and I ain't blind. Or in this case, I ain't _dead_, okay? Just… warmin' you up's something I gotta do, and that's the job. Gotta do it. Watching over you's my responsibility—like always."

"I don't get it, Beach. Is this your weird, roundabout way of explaining why you're armed, even though we're in the middle of abso-frickin-lutely nowhere? Is there any way we can move that damned pistol, by the way? It's… kind of pressing in a really awkward place. And it might be an easy draw if there weren't two of us in here, but I don't know how you're going to get to it in time…"

"…just drop it, girl."

"Well… sheesh. Men and their guns. Okay, _fine_. If you don't want to move it, _I'll _move."

"…_Ah_… don't… nnnh… do that. Don't worry about it. Just… stop wiggling around like that, and we'll be fine."

"But it's… I… oh. _Oh._"

"Princess?"

"I just realized something."

"What's that?"

"Those are your legs against mine."

"Yeah? So?"

"They're hairy."

"Yeah, they're _legs. _Y'know… I ain't sure Snake got you out of that water in time. You _sure_ you're okay?!"

"You… you're not wearing your BDUs? No holster, no belt?"

"For God's sakes. You _do _read your field manuals, right, and you do know what 'skin to skin' means in the hypothermia protocol, _right_?"

"But you _are_ in your underwear."

"You know, you were a lot easier to deal with when you were out cold."

"Boxers? Briefs?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"No pockets?"

"What? _No_. Do I look like a cyborg to you? Where the Hell would I have pockets?"

"So… that's… that's not a… I mean, you're… um. Let me start again. You're armed?"

"Of course. Armed times three. You know that, Cover Girl. Because just when you think you're in the middle of nowhere and let your guard go down, that's when—"

"Okay, okay, yes, I know the lecture. So where are the guns, Beach Head?"

"Mmph. Rifle's up against the tent wall. My pistol's over there, on the floor just behind you. Yours is under the pillow, Cinderella."

"Oh. You mean… not…"

"No."

"…oh."

"See? Next time I tell you to drop it, just _drop it._ And _no, _I really wouldn't go lookin' unless you're planning to actually _do_ something about it, you hear me?!"

"Oh. _Oh._ I… I just… I guess I—_oh._"

"You don't have to say anything. In fact—_don't. _Like I said. I ain't dead, Princess. You gonna make an issue of it?"

"Uh… hmm. Just the job, huh?"

"If you do not wipe that goddamned smirk off your mouth, Cinderella, I swear to God you are leavin' this thermal bag again, an' this time you're gonna be airborne when you do. I'm telling you, Uncle Sam doesn't pay me enough for this shit."

"Me, neither. Do you ever think…"

"What?"

"About more than just the job."

"No. Why would I?"

"Yeah. Yeah, good point, Ranger Man. Just… just making small talk, I guess. Maybe the cold's still in my head."

"Maybe, Princess. Hey. How _are _you feeling?"

"Mmmmph. I… okay, I guess. Still cold through and through, but… nothing feels like it's burning up anymore."

"Yeah. That's good. Hey. I'm gonna put my arm over you, get your core temp up a little more. You gonna hit me?"

"…no. I guess not. Maybe later. Oooh."

"Hmm? What? You still getting those cramps?"

"I… uh… uh… no, no more cramps. It's nothing. Just…"

"Just?"

"This feels… you know, kinda nice. Cozy. _Weird_, but…"

"Now I _know _the cold got to your brain. I ain't no pretty blond Top, Courtney."

"Yeah. I know who you are, Beach. Trust me… I know."

"Uh… yeah. You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Wayne, I… just… thanks, all right?"

"For what?"

"I… nothing, Beach. Nothing."

~fin~

June 11, 2009

* * *

Tee-hee... -cough- Here I go again with tossing poor Beach Head and Cover Girl into just _the_ most trite and overused situations… but what can I say, they're _so _much fun to torture!

I have never had hypothermia, but actually, if Cover Girl were to be so hypothermic as to require skin contact to warm her up, they'd probably have kept more than one person in that bag with her. And him rubbing her hands is actually inadvisable. But that's what fanfiction is for…

Yes. I realize the gun misunderstanding is just plain _terrible_, and highly improbable besides—not even Courtney's _that_ dense!—but… I just couldn't resist!


	7. Accommodation

Wow, it has been a long time since I bothered posting anything on FF dot net. I actually finished this particular set of drabbles years ago, and just... never got around to posting them! But, well, here we go-the last three stories in the set. There was supposed to be one more, but... well, sad to say, that one never did get completed. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them!

* * *

**Accommodation**

* * *

"Wayne, if you'll just—"

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"Oh, come _on,_ Ranger Man—"

"Cinderella, I ain't got any other fancy languages to say it in, but I'm pretty damned sure that 'no' still means '_no_' in Barbieland, don't it?"

"Hmm… I think you're mixing your metaphors."

"And if you think that's gonna confuse me into saying 'yes,' you've got a Hell of another thing coming, darlin'. I know what a metaphor is, I know what mixed metaphors are, and I'll call you Cinderella Barbie if I damned well want to. The answer is still _no_."

"Why _noooot_?"

"Blazes. You know, for a really hot girl, you are just… damned unattractive when you whine. Princess…"

"Please?"

"…now _there's_ a word I never thought I was going to hear out of that little pink mouth of yours, and you realize you've just made me even _more_ suspicious now, right? Cover Girl, half the gray I've got has got your name on it as it is."

"My God, you're paranoid. And I don't think you _have_ any gray hair. What's wrong with me wanting some company on a drive into town?"

"Lesse, number one, the fact that you're asking ol' _Beach Head_ to take you into town."

"You know, Wayne, this might shock you, but I sometimes actually think we _are_ friends. No, really. Look, I like company—heck, I've got into town with the motor pool guys, too!"

"And what I have I said about comparin' me to the flying monkeys? Number two, I ain't transport, you _are_, and I've seen that fancy little German machine you're always cooing over, so why d'you want to take _my_ ride?"

"Your trunk's bigger."

"What the Hell, do I look like your fairy godmother to you? I should put you back on the training course for even _thinking_ of draggin' me anywhere near a mall, Cinderella!"

"A mall? No! It's not for shopping, it's for the bodies."

"_WHAT?"_

"Ouch. My eardrums. I'm just kidding, Beach. Geez. Lighten up."

"Number three…"

"…okay, okay, I get it! How many numbers _are_ there on that list, anyway?"

"As many as it takes, 'cause you don't seem to be getting the point that I'm serious!"

"Come _on_, Beach, you owe me one!"

"I don't owe you diddly-squat! Cinderella, I kept Scarlett too worn out with PT to deck you after you smooched that damned ninja in front of God, man, and everyone on base. I'd say _you_ owe _me_, and you can pay your debt out right now by leaving me _alone_ to work out in peace."

"No."

"_What_?"

"I know you're hitting the bench press next. You think I'm leaving you without a spotter? _No._ And seriously, Beach Head! Scarlett wouldn't have hit me. She kissed him herself for saving my life! _And_ I'm pretty sure he got a lot more out of her for it later than he'd ever have gotten out of me, so what's your problem, exactly?"

"…"

"Wow. That was just the most amazing gargling noise I think I've ever heard out of a human being."

"Problem? You want a _problem? _All you're doing is telling a senior NCO about the newest frat reg violation on base, Cover Girl, and—"

"—well, it's kind of a _continuing _violation, don't you think? And I can quote the rest of that lecture back at you word-for-word, so can we skip it and get to what you actually mean to say, Beach?"

"You. Are not. Helping. And you've got the common sense of bloody pea soup if you think this is helping your cause any. 'Specially since I still ain't got the faintest idea what the Hell your cause _is_, Cinderella."

"I haven't got a _cause_, I just… want your company, that's all. Is that so wrong?"

"What's _wrong_ here is that I don't even believe you, so you wanna give that another try?"

"It's… it's… complicated."

"Then I know for _sure_ I don't want to be anywhere near it. Find yourself another damned patsy. The motor pool boys'll do anything for you in that skirt you're wearin', anyway."

"I know they will, but… that's not the point. Look, Beach, my mom's coming into town, okay? And all I've got to do is pick her up at the airport, then drop her off at her hotel. That's it."

"For this, you're interrupting my gym time?"

"Hey, I'm spotting for you, aren't I? Do you think I'm normally in the gym at o-five-hundred? You just don't get it, Beach Head. It's my mom, and… I need_ backup_. Like… serious backup. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Cover Girl. You start off every morning spittin' in my face like a baby alley cat even though you know I'm gonna torture you for it. You're goddamned career _army_, and you're running scared of your _ma?_ I'm not even gonna start on how pathetic that is. Yeah, obviously you need more laps."

"My mom's Jewish."

"I don't care if she's an albino pygmy._"_

"Hah! Wow. What a visual. You know. Jewish mom. 'You're too thin, you've gotta eat more, when're you going to find a nice boy and settle down and raise some _yelladim_…' they're like everything you've ever seen on an episode of Seinfeld, only… more so."

"…_yella_-whatsit?"

"You don't want to know. Seriously. She's in town for a conference, but I still have to show my face. And I… well… she thinks I'm… kind of seeing someone. It's really gotten her off my back the past few weeks. You know?"

"No. I don't know. That's damned naïve of her, doesn't she know what your job is like? You ain't got time for dating, and you sure as Hell wouldn't be dating someone in the unit, anyway. And what the Hell's that got to do with _me_?"

"Look, I didn't _tell_ her, she just kind of _assumed. _So I _would _take Clutch or 'Wreck or Craig to pick her up, but… none of the motor pool guys have auburn hair. Or hazel eyes. Or an eight-pack. Well, okay, they _might_ have an eight-pack, I don't know about that, but—"

"You're babbling. Get to the point. So _what_?"

"…so… the guy she thinks I'm seeing… kind of does?"

"…"

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't think she'd ever show up in this part of the continent, okay? It was after that whole Greenland thing. She was saying something about rolling in hay and _yelladim_ and I made a joke about how I didn't have time for hay rolling and _yelladim, _I was spending my mission time sharing a sleeping bag with a big buff army sergeant, and… she ran with it. I didn't realize _why_ she kept asking about how you—or he—or… or _whoever _looked like until, well… but then she stopped nagging…"

"…what the _fuck_."

"I know, I _know_. But… I mean… _please,_ Beach! All you've got to do is, I dunno, help her with her bags, you don't even have to say anything… in fact, please _don't_ say anything…"

"You think any part of that story's makin' me want to _help_ you?"

"Desperate teammate, here."

"Yeah, and you definitely faked your mom off with the wrong Joe, Princess! _Fuck!_"

"Well, excuuuse me, I'll be sure to pick my hot-water bottle better the next time I get hypothermia! Beach, look, I know what I'm asking—"

"You ain't got any fuckin' idea what you're asking!"

"I'll owe you—for serious, I will, Beach. _Please._"

"…"

"_Please?_"

"Blazes. That face. You really are pathetic, Cinderella."

"I'm serious, I'll do _anything_, you've got no idea how nice and _peaceful_ the past couple of weeks have been."

"…yeah? Hmm… y'know…"

"…okay, _now_ I'm a little scared."

"Well… here's the thing, darlin'. My sister's comin' into town next month, and I am _not_ showin' her around, and I am _fuckin' _not lettin' any of the other guys do it…"

"Your… sister? You've got a sister?"

"Yeah."

"Younger, huh?"

"Yeah… how'd you know?"

"Because your overdeveloped protective instinct is showing again. Hey! I can show her around, definitely… that is, if _you_ don't think she'll be corrupted by hanging around a former model… Wayne? Why are you laughing?"

"Cinderella, she's a fashion photographer. I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I think she's better off with you than with the rest of the bubbleheads she works with."

"A… fashion photographer… _ugh. _That's… that's so incongruous it's… I don't even know where to go with that. You might end up owing _me_."

"Take it or leave it."

"…you'd _better_ be good in front of my mom, that's all I'm saying."

"Fuck no. All I'm doin' is drivin' you there, hauling bags, and getting the Hell out of Dodge. I am _not_ gonna shoot the shit with your mother, an' if you think I'm going to perpetuate that frat-reg-violatin' little fiction you've got running around your head—"

"Beach Head, trust me, I've been giving her the runaround for the last twenty-nine years. I can definitely do it for a few hours. Just… don't hit her when she starts cooing over you. Because, um, she probably will."

"…the things I do for my goddamned teammates. You tell _anyone_ about this, darlin', and you are gonna be doing push-ups until St. Peter opens the pearly gates. You got that?"

"…oh. Oh. Uh-huh. Crystal clear, Beach."

"An' you're nuts if you think I'm wearin' anything fancy."

"Huh? _That_ visual never even crossed my mind. Do you even _own_ anything fancy?"

"Of course I do."

"_Other_ than your Class As."

"Then no."

"That's what I figured. Well, how about a t-shirt and BDUs? You know that dark green t-shirt you've got? It… really brings out the gold in your eyes."

"Brings out my… what the Hell does that even _mean. _Seriously, Princess, _why_ have you been lookin' into my eyes?"

"We spend most mornings with your face about six inches from mine and you exploding my eardrums. I might be _deaf _at the end of one of your lectures, but I'm not blind_, _you know. You've got gorgeous eyes. Everyone's just too freaked-out by you to tell you so."

"…and speakin' of lectures, you're doubling up on PT tomorrow. No, for the next _week_."

"What the—okay. Okay, okay, _okay_. Sheesh, talk about not being able to take a compliment."

"I can take a compliment just fine. But if you're spendin' floor time lookin' into my eyes, you _obviously _need to be workin' harder, Cinderella."

"Fine, fine. Whatever. I… thanks, Ranger Man. You're the best hardassed, mean-spirited drill sergeant I know. For real."

"…what was that for?"

"It's just a kiss on the cheek, Wayne. You know, a thank-you."

"Hmph. Don't thank me yet, darlin'. After meeting _me_, your mom's probably gonna start goin' on about you needing to trade in for another model."

"Hah! Just so long as you don't try and order _her_ around, we'll be fine."

"Yeah."

"Besides. All this… you know, us. It's just… kind of a game anyway, right?"

"…"

"Beach?"

"Yeah. Sure, Cinderella, sure."

"One last, um, kind of big favor? Since I _am_ going to be showing around your fashion photographer little sister, and you really have _no_ idea how much I hate photographers and their 'artistic' notions…"

"…what the Hell, let's hear it."

"Would you please, um… wear some deodorant?"

~fin~

July 30, 2009

My thanks, once again, to Author376, without whom I probably would have run out of inspiration by now. The cue: BH/CG: Compromise.


	8. Appetizer

**Appetizer**

* * *

"Mmm… ohhh. Yum. Oh, that's _so _good. There is nothing in this world like Roadblock's mac and cheese…"

"That shit'll kill you, Princess."

"Beach Head. Seriously. I drive a tank. A _tank_. And you worry about my _arteries_ getting clogged up?"

"Yeah, well, God and America willing? Cobra takes you down, they win—a heart attack takes you down, means you lived long enough for us to beat 'em, right?"

"Oh for cryin' out—it's a _barbecue_, Beach. Furthermore, it's the fourth of July barbecue, irony of ironies. On Marvin's place. With _Marvin's_ food. You are the one and only person I know who can possibly be a wet blanket at something like this. Is that why you're sulking off here in the corner?"

"Who asked you, dollface? I _told_ Hawk I'd stay on the team duty roster—"

"Yeah, yeah, and _that_ is exactly why we all draw straws to decide who has to stay on during holidays, Beach. So since you did _not_ get that oh-so-coveted short straw, and you could _not_ talk someone into trading with you—"

"Yeah. It was just _weird_."

"Oh, _Beach_. One word: Tomahawk."

"Wha—what the Hell are you goin' on about? What's this got to do with General Hawk? _Hey_—what do you think you're doing? Did I _say_ you could sit down with me?"

"Not your tree, not your prerogative. You know Hawk kind of thinks of us as his kids, right? Well, I'm guessing that he decided that Anal Retentive Eldest Son needed a… a day off, shall we say."

"…what the Hell? I don't need no fuckin' vacation!"

"Can I tell you how twisted it is that you're complaining about the vacation, rather than about being called Anal Retentive Eldest Son? And… by the way, are you _disagreeing_ with General Abernathy, Beach Head? I think the world just ended."

"I just _swear… _Fuckin' Hell, Cinderella. He sent you over here to drag me to join the rest of the yahoos, didn't he?"

"Huh? Oh. No."

"Then what're you doing here, other than raisin' my blood pressure?"

"Marvin wanted to know if you weren't enjoying the food, because he hasn't seen you at the mess line. I suggest you at least eat something, and _maybe_ even enjoy it. I don't care if you're the hardest-ass drill sergeant on the face of this planet, Beach, if he stops cooking for the lot of us because _you_ won't eat his food, the Joes are actually capable of making your life really, really, _really_ miserable."

"I ain't hungry."

"Here, if you at least _try_ some mac and cheese, I'll leave you alone."

"No. It's cold."

"Of course it's not. _And _I don't want to hear it from someone who doesn't even bother heating his MREs. Even when he's got a fire. You think just because I'm Armored Vehicle, I don't know about that? Take the damned fork, Beach, before I just feed you some."

"Just you try it, Cinderella—what the Hell are you—_hey!_"

"I warned you."

"Get that fork the fuck out of my face, or else _you're_ going to be eating it!"

"Your loss. Mmmm. Oh, mmm. You starve yourself, you'll lose muscle mass, you know."

"Oh, yeah? So is that what _you've_ been doing?"

"…you know, I'm trying _really hard_ to be a good Joe girl here and not introduce your face to this plate of perfectly good macaroni…"

"A _good _Joe girl? Hah! Cinderella, that might be the biggest oxymoron I've heard this whole damned day!"

"You think you are _so _clever, Beach, but sometimes… I want you to sit there for just a moment and consider what's going through my mind, hearing the term 'oxymoron' coming out of someone speaking good ol' charming redneck. Uh-huh. I'll give you a second."

"There you go again, lookin' all smug. You forget: you open your mouth now, you'll be stickin' your foot into it by the time I get my hands on you tomorrow morning, Princess."

"Riiiight. So it's okay for you to insult me, but I don't get to give back as good as I get? Not even going to start with the pots and the kettles, Beach."

"Uh-huh. This is the military, no-one ever said it was _fair, _darlin'. Difference is, if I do it, it's called training—and if you do, it's called 'insubordination.' There, now, that a big enough word for you?"

"Oh, sure, definitely. Training, abuse of power, what's the difference, right?"

"Hah! It ain't abuse if you like it, Princess."

"What? You think I _like _crawling through the obstacle course while belting out the Battle Hymn of the Republic?"

"_You _picked the tune, darlin'."

"You gave me a choice between singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic and the theme from Dynasty!"

"So? And it wasn't like you were actually _singing_, it was more… the wheezing of a dying animal. A small one. A _real_ small one."

"Oh, don't you even start with me, Beach Head. I'm just so creeped out by the fact that you even _know_ the theme from Dynasty!"

"You kidding? I don't."

"Then—what—_huh?_ How would you even have known I was singing it wrong? Wait, does it even have _words?_"

"How am I supposed to know? It was something my sister used to watch."

"…You were betting on me having _no idea_ what it was, weren't you. I hate you, Beach."

"I was betting on you having a better singing voice. Woman, you shoulda warned me how bad your singing was, 'cause we were all suffering right there along with you! 'Specially since… what soldier doesn't know the Battle Hymn of the Republic? I should be givin' you push-ups for that alone!"

"Oh, _now_ you're being picky? I do too know it."

"Blazes! There ain't no 'little Peter rabbits' with flies upon their fuckin' noses in the Battle Hymn of the Republic, Cover Girl!"

"Says _you. _That's what you get for not being specific, then, isn't it? You always tell us, Beach, that if we didn't have even enough brains and guts and independent thought to get through your training exercises, we should have stayed back in our own little hometown, right?"

"Yeah? I also tell the lot of you maggots that you can have all the independent thought you want, but you just try any of that gung-ho gusto independent action shit, and I'll kick your little ass back to Peoria myself, Cinderella!"

"…what did you say?"

"You hard of hearin' all of a sudden, or something? Maybe that's why you're tone deaf."

"No, I… hm. Hey, Beach?"

"What?"

"How did you know where I'm from?"

"Huh? Well… shit, girl, I dunno. You probably told me. What's it matter, anyway?"

"I can't decide which idea shocks me more, the thought that I might actually be spending enough time around you to tell you where I'm from… or the idea that you actually remember."

"I let the redneck joke slide, but one more crack about ol' Beach Head bein' dumb, and I'm tellin' you, dollface, tomorrow it ain't gonna be the Battle Hymn, it'll be that hymn of the Marine Corps."

"Wha—that's not what I—wait, never mind that, I'm not a Marine, Beach!"

"Yep. That's obvious."

"So how the heck would I…"

"You were the one goin' on about brains and guts and independent thought, Princess. You'll figure something out. I'm sure Lafitte and them'll really _appreciate_ your little rendition of that song they're all so blasted proud of."

"You know, you're just plain fixated on the _weirdest_ things. I just bet you sing in the shower or something like that."

"No. I got better things to do in there, darlin'."

"Wha—eh—ah—_what? _I can't believe you just said that! _Beach!_"

"What's that look on your face for? A shower's a shower, I ain't got time to waste my voice in there."

"Oh. Ah… hehe."

"What the Hell were you thinking of? I swear, Princess, you with your ups and downs, you'd make a fighter pilot dizzy."

"Hah! But you didn't deny the singing!"

"I ain't denying a thing. Yeah, I sing better than you do, but Hell, _vultures_ sing prettier than you do."

"And _I _never denied that I carry a tune like a tank! It's your own damned fault you had to suffer through it."

"Just you remember, we're starting E&E drills next month, an' your team's lucky enough to be dancing with Beach think you're still gonna be smirking then? I'm gonna break you in two, Cinderella, fairy godmother and all."

"Oh, is that so? Well, I'd better go buy a pair of boots, then."

"Huh?"

"You know, so I can shake in them. Oh, _please_. Beach, is that the best you can come up with these days? You're slipping… hey. What's so funny? Wayne…?"

"How the Hell were you a supermodel, seriously? Yeah, okay, you're beautiful, but how the _Hell_ were you smilin' and sittin' pretty with those fruitcake jokers, Courtney? That mouth of yours just doesn't _stop_!"

"I… uh… now _you're_ making me dizzy, Ranger Man."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't've gone near that potato salad."

"Not _that_ way, Beach! The sun must've gotten to you, because you just called me beautiful—again—and it actually sounded like you _meant_ it—_again_!"

"Aw, don't you even start with that fake-surprised act. You know you're the most fuckin' attractive girl most of us have ever met, Courtney. Haven't I told you that before?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah… quote, 'Cover Girl, but the next time I catch the horny sailor starin' at those great tits of yours, you're getting extra laps,' unquote? How is that even _fair_, let me ask you."

"Now I've gotta start repeating myself? This is the military…"

"Whoever said it was fair, yeah, I _get_ that, but… what's that got to do with 'Wreck staring at my chest, and _me_ getting another lap around the base?"

"What? It worked. He stopped."

"Because I told him if he kept staring, I'd tell Snake he was staring at Scarlett's breasts, too!"

"So?"

"What do you mean, 'so?' _You_ didn't do anything to make it stop—_I_ did!"

"Yeah? You're just makin' my point for me, you know that, right?"

"…"

"I made you run laps, he stopped droolin' over you. My work's done."

"Oh, no you don't. Don't you even try. Not even _you_ are twisted to come up with a plan like that, Beach Head. Heck, not even _Cobra's_ twisted to come up with a plan like that!"

"I don't have to be twisted, Princess… just two steps ahead of you, and that ain't hard."

"Well, it's a good thing I've got mission objectives from a higher power, then. And a lot of leeway for that 'independent action' you've been harping on about."

"What're you babblin' about?"

"Let me put it this way. You _are_ going to go and get some of this wonderful lunch that Marvin's been working so hard on. And you're going to enjoy it. Or else."

"Are _you_ threatening _me_? With _what_, Cover Girl? A walk-off?"

"…sometimes, it really just _shocks_ me what bits of pop culture actually make it through that inch-thick layer of military around you. I can't bench press a car, but trust me, I can make you really regret tangling with me, Beach Head."

"Hah! This I gotta see! You just _try_ it, Princess."

"Okay."

"Wha—what the Hell do you think you're—_Courtney!_ What the—"

"Hmmm? Mmm. Wow. You really _do_ have a heck of a body on you, don't you?"

"What the—Courtney… what're you…"

"Oh… nothing. No-thing at allll. Mmmm-mmm. What's the matter, Ranger Man? Fourth of July got too hot for you all of a sudden?"

"…Cover Girl, you've got to the count of _two_! One—"

"Let's see, you can do nothing. I'll say you've got maybe two minutes before someone comes looking for me and finds us… like this. Or you can agree with me now, and this'll all go away without tears. You can go get yourself a nice bit of lunch, make your belly happy, make 'Block happy. The only one unhappy there is maybe your arteries."

"I see a very good option number three—it's called _getting you the fuck off me._"

"Or you _try_ and dump me to the ground—and someone finds us lying in the grass together when I take you down with me. And if you think them finding out you kissed me was embarrassing _then…_"

"You really think you can take me down?"

"Maybe, maybe not? But a) Scarlett's taught us some tricks she's never shown you guys, and b) I really think that the sight of me trying to bring you down with me would be enough to convince any witnesses coming to investigate the ruckus of something… very different? I mean, here we are, sitting in the grass out of sight of everyone else…"

"What the bloody friggin' Hell is the _matter_ with you? You tryin' to get us both court-martialed?"

"And you must be the _only _person in the world this'd work on, seeing as how you're the single Joe who actually _thinks _of court-martial in a situation like this? I'm just doing a friend a favor, Beach, that's all. I'm a very _good_ friend, what can I say?"

"And you think _Cobra's _twisted? What did 'Block do, goddamned name his firstborn after you?"

"He made me a New York cheesecake. For that, heck, yeah, I'll torture you for a bit."

"You're not just twisted, you are _cracked,_ right down the center,Cover Girl!"

"And you li-ike it…"

"Stop. Doing. That. You can keep believing what-so-fucking-ever you damned well want, but get the fuck off me, Cinderella."

"Nope! You've got my ultimatum. Plus… man, Beach, you should've see the _look_ on your face…"

"There wasn't any goddamned 'look' other than 'get the Hell away from me before I really _do_ turn you over my knee!'"

"Oh, heck, yeah there was. You looked like you couldn't decide whether to kiss me, kill me, or yell for backup. Actually, you _still_ look that way."

"Same damned thing!"

"Nuh-uh, it ain't the 'same damned thing' at all. What's the matter, Beach? Good Southern boy ain't never had a girl sitting in his lap before?"

"There you go, makin' fun of my accent again. I'm not even gonna start counting. If you do not move your little ass _yesterday_, you are really. Really. Not gonna like what's gonna happen."

"Oh, right, like _you'd_ ever try anything, Sergeant By-the-Books. You haven't even got a beer in hand as an excuse, the way everyone else does."

"Don't need no damned _excuse_."

"Hah! That's what you—mmph! Mmmmh… oh… Wayne… what are you…"

"Shush. Mmm. C'mere, darlin'."

"Oh… _ah…_"

"Damn, Cinderella… _mmm_."

"Oh… mmm… ohhh… whoa—aaah! _Yow!_ HEY! What the Hell was _that_ for?"

"Heh. What was that you were you sayin' again, dollface? Got any more sassy comments up those sleeves of yours?"

"_Ouch!_ Hey!"

"Stop squirming."

"Well, get your knee off my back, you're _heavy_! This is _not_ cool, Beach Head, _not_ cool at all!"

"Ri-ight, 'cause you tryin' to blackmail me—_again—_is _all _kinds of fuckin' honorable, right, Cover Girl?"

"Oh, like it would have killed you to give in and go get yourself some lunch. _Hey!_"

"Yeah, but I like this solution better. What d'you think, darlin', still think they'll get the wrong idea when you've gotta get someone to cut that tie off your hands?"

"Screw. You. And _why_ do you even have luggage ties in your pocket?"

"Never know when I'm gonna need them. And you—gettin' all breathy and whimpery from a little kiss. Sad, girl."

"What do you mean, a little _kiss? _Is _that _what you call sticking your tongue into my mouth and sucking on my neck?"

"Yeah, so? Tactics. How many times I gotta hammer it into that thick skull of yours: you let yourself get distracted, you let yourself get dead! If I'd been Cobra, you wouldn't be facedown on the grass, you'd've been six feet under, Courtney!"

"Oh, yeah? Uh-huh? All official, right, just another good ol' day with Beach Head's unconventional and agonizingly painful lesson plan. I'd just _love _to see you explaining that one to Flint and Snake. 'I really wasn't _kissing _your girlfriends, I was just trainin' them proper!'"

"Ri-ight, because Jaye or Scarlett's gonna be climbin' up my body, runnin' their hands down my chest, and squirmin' on my lap? It ain't like I've ever spent a whole goddamned afternoon with you _naked _or anything, Courtney… right?"

"…"

"Don't play games if you can't take bein' played, darlin'. You ain't tanglin' with one of the Motor Pool jockeys."

"Oooooh… _so_ scared."

"Yeah, well, bein' scared takes good sense, an' obviously God had to take away _something_ when he gave you the pretty, Princess."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Oh, another model joke. Oh, like I've never heard _that_ one before… hey. You gonna cut this tie?"

"You can't get up and around on your own with your hands tied behind your back? That ain't just sad, Cover Girl, that's a bleedin' Greek tragedy."

"Again. Ha. Ha. Ha. Hey! Where do you think _you're _going?"

"Y'know… tanglin' with you kinda _did _make me a little hungry. Maybe I _will_ go get something to eat…"

"…"

"What? I got a weakness for cheesecake."

"…Beach, I swear, I hate you."

~fin~

Start: July 08, 2009  
End: July 11, 2009


	9. Astringent

And, here we are, at the end of the Cabbages and Kings line... I hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

**Astringent**

* * *

"Wha—HEY!"

"I need a word with you, Princess. Cover Girl, dammit, _what_ have I told you about that perfume of yours? How many times do I gotta tell you that a smell out of place can get you killed?"

"Why, hello again, Beach Head. Hmmm, do I smell nice today? Why… it's amazing, I suspect I do! Now, let's see, can I say the same for you… hmmm…"

"Uh-huh. There'sthat mouth again. What, you forgot that little lesson I spent my own precious time teachin' you this morning? _Already?_"

"Uh… yeaaaah. If you think I could forget about a morning that I spent running through the obstacle course _backwards, _Beach, you're as crazy as you think I am."

"I don't just think you're nuts, I _know _you are. 'Cause, you know what, you're _still_ wearin' the same perfume that you had on when you came to PT! I don't know _what_ the fuck you were thinking—what, who're you tryin' to impress while you get yourself down and dirty in my obstacle course?"

"And for _this, _you're ambushing me in the hallway? That was an _accident_! Look, I told you, I knocked over a bottle of scented bath oil on my way out the door to PT. What, you think you'd have been any easier on me if I' d actually taken the time to clean up? I'd have ended up late!"

"Take it easy on you? Why should I? It's your own damned fault either way!"

"And can I tell you that I cannot _believe_ you actually stood up from your desk and hauled me into your office to _yell_ at me about this… _again_?"

"Yeah, well, blazes, _I_ cannot believe you _still_ smell like you've been skinny dippin' in a flower patch! How the Hell else d'you think I knew it was _you_when you walked past the door?"

"Let's see… because you've got crazy like Red's got attitude? This may come as a shock, Beach, but some of us _do_ actually shower _after_ PT. Like, say, yours truly. So _no_, I do not have any of that perfume on me anymore."

"Well, I'm tellin' you, Princess, I don't know what crap you use in your hair or whatnot, but I can still smell you from down the hall."

"That's not—hey! Hey. Oh. What're you—"

"Yeah. Mmph. That's _definitely_ comin' from you, dollface."

"Wow. You _do _know you've got my wrist up to your face, right, Beach? I can't even figure out if it's funny or if it's going to shatter my mind in about ten seconds."

"What in the bosom of Hell are you babbling about?"

"Never mind. That went right over your head, didn't it. Look. Beach. Even if you can smell me, and it's _not_ the activity of some weird Cobra brain spore, since I don't think anyone can conceive of you having an imagination—so what? I'm not on a mission. And there's _no-one_ who's smelling me from inside an armored vehicle, anyway!"

"Yeah, 'cause it ain't like you've _never_ had to climb your way out of a wreck and through hostile territory? They'd be able to follow you just by trackin' the migrating gardenia patch through the damned tropical rainforest!"

"_Please_. We're _not_ in the tropical rainforest, I'm not due for a mission for another two days, and right now, it's a Hell of a lot better than Eau de Macho. And why am I even having this argument with… wait. Wait. Back up. Beach?"

"Gimme a second, busy figurin' out the logistics of making you run the obstacle course in full handstand."

"Oh, you're funny, Ranger Man, you're really funny. So… since I'm already on death row, you want to tell me _how_ you knew it was gardenia?"

"What?"

"That oil I knocked onto myself. How'd you know it was gardenia?"

"…Lucky guess."

"Right, because how many guys even _know _what a gardenia is?"

"…"

"…_Wayne…"_

"…"

"Awww, is Mama Sneeden's tough little boy a florist at heart?"

"I delivered flowers in high school to make some extra cash, okay? You gonna make somethin' of it?"

"…"

"Goddamn it, stop your cackling, Krieger, or I'm going to make you _eat_ that damned gardenia perfume or oil or whatever the fuck it is!"

"Ooooh… heh… oh… I can't breathe… geez. What, no death threats?"

"I don't _need_ death threats, Princess. I can make you suffer without 'em."

"Oh, very nice, Beach Head, _very _nice. I don't think _you_ realize that I know your secret."

"You are a damned broken record, you know that, girl? I ain't _got_ secrets, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Oh? You had one the first time you said those infamous words."

"I… oh, that? Pfft."

"Uh-huh. You say what you want, Beach Head. And you know what, that's _fine—_'cause I know something _none _of the other Joes has figured out."

"Oh, yeah? Hah! That'll be the day."

"You make _all_ this big deal about deodorant and perfume and cologne and oil… but shouldn't you do something about that peppermint habit of yours before you start throwing any stones, Ranger Man?"

"What the blazes?"

"You know. Those peppermints you're always sucking on. You've always got sweet breath—even during first-thing-in-the-morning in PT. You think I wouldn't notice that, considering how much time you spend yelling in my face?"

"If you're shocked about me owning a _toothbrush, _girl, you are gonna be in _so _much fuckin' trouble—"

"Don't you even start, you big faker."

"_What _did you just say to me?"

"You're forgetting something very important. Remember, you've _had_ your tongue in my mouth."

"What the—what's that got to do with anything?"

"I can taste the candy when you kiss me, Beach. Once would've been a fluke, but it _hasn't _just been once. So yeah, I know it's not toothpaste, and I _know_ you're probably near-to addicted to the things."

"…"

"Nothing nasty to say to _that_, huh?"

"…damn. Well, _fuck_."

"Wayne?"

"I swear to God, Courtney…"

"Are you… laughing? Whoa."

"Well, you are a _serious_ piece of work, darlin'. Fine. Yeah."

"Fine… yeah… what?"

"Yeah. Sure, I like peppermints, Cinderella. Bad habit, but I ain't ashamed of it."

"You're… actually admitting something? To me? _Seriously?_"

"Sure. And you _like_ my mint habit, don't you."

"_Like_…? Hey! Wait, hey, I didn't say anything about—"

"Oh, yeah? 'Cause you're blushin' red hot, darlin', and starin' at my mouth. Remember—I know _your_ little secret. Still the best kiss you've ever had, Princess?"

"Bastard. _Bastard_. It would serve you right if I _did_ go out and tell the rest of the team that the Master Sergeant's been kissing me!"

"You call that a threat, dollface? I _let_ you blackmail me the last time."

"…uh…"

"You know what? Go ahead! Tell 'em. Tell 'em, an' then _you_ get to explain why you let me do it… 'cause, like you said, it wasn't just the once. What's the matter, sweetheart—you been out testing the other guys' lips, too?"

"Hah! What do you care?"

"I don't. 'Cause… you're still right here in _my_ office… and givin' _me_ googly eyes."

"…I hate you, Beach. I—"

"Uh-huh. Either you're gonna have to shut up, Cover Girl, or you're gonna have to stop looking at me like that. You've got two seconds. One…"

"I… what… Beach, what're you…"

"_Shhh_."

"Oh. Wayne… _Oh_."

"Mmmm."

"…"

"…"

"…mmmh… hey. Breathe, darlin'."

"Oh. Oh, yeah… that. Heh."

"Barbiedoll, I swear… no wonder you're a tank driver, you've got the survival instinct of a goddamned parsnip."

"Can't help it. You… I'm only going to say this once, but you really are a _Hell _of a kisser, Wayne. And… okay, I'll give you that, the peppermints aren't hurting that skill of yours any. Mmm."

"Yeah? You're not too bad, yourself."

"Smug bastard."

"An'… you… _damn_…"

"What…? Oh… _oh_… what're you… what're you doing?"

"You've had my mouth on your neck before, darlin', don't you act so shocked."

"_Mmmh…_"

"Damn… Cinderella, this perfume stuff's gotta come off you."

"Ooooh…_ oh, God_… why?"

"Are you dense or something? Because you smell fucking _fantastic_, Courtney!"

"…wait, wait, wait. You mean… _I've_ been distracting _you_?"

"Wha—Hell, no! I wouldn't put it _that_ way!"

"Uh-huh. Ranger Man… my brain's not half-dead with hypothermia. So yeah, I can tell that you're plenty… distracted."

"Well, Hell. That? So? Again: I ain't dead."

"Hm. Yeah… I can… definitely… tell."

"_Fuck_!"

"Mmmmh."

"…Either that leg comes down from around my waist… or I ain't responsible for what happens next, dollface."

"Oh… yeah? But you're the one who's still got me plastered up against the wall of your office with your fingers printing on my ass, you _do _know that, right? So why aren't _you_ moving away, huh, Master Sergeant Sneeden?"

"Parsnip. Survival instinct of a freaking _parsnip_. In fact, I might have to start calling you—_ah_—don't _do_ that!"

"Hee. Or what? You'll kiss me into submission again?"

"Jesus. Back off. I mean it, Courtney, _stand down_."

"Yeah? _You first_, Beach Head!"

"…fine. Stay there. Do _not_ move."

"…"

"You okay?"

"…yeah. Yeah, I'm fine—obviously I'm fine, but… you didn't have to shove me like that, you know."

"Cover Girl… look. This has got to stop. For real. Yeah, I know you think it's funny to tease ol' Beach Head, but I am a serious fuckin' heartbeat from takin' you right here, up against the wall."

"Ah… what do you mean…?"

"The Hell? You need a translation for _that?_"

"I know you think I'm stupid, but I'm not _that _stupid, Beach. Frat regs… your words. Remember? I know you won't actually touch me, so don't you even start with the threats. It'd hurt my pride if I weren't so glad for it."

"Your… pride? Fuckin' A. Fuckin' goddamned—so _that's_ why you've been cock-teasing me for all these months, huh, Cover Girl? Well, _fuck,_ that explains a whole lot—I'm so goddamned glad you think this is fun, 'cause—"

"What—huh? No!"

"Then what?"

"You kissed me first, remember? And… I couldn't…"

"Couldn't let me get away with having one over you? That the way it went? It was a goddamned _accident_, okay, Cinderella? You want me to admit I'm in the wrong? That it? Fine. It was a big fuckin' mistake anyhow—I knew that the moment I touched you!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth! It's not like that, Beach."

"Well, you ain't exactly telling me what it _is_ like, are you?"

"I… I just… Wayne?"

"_What_?"

"What's… going on here?"

"Let's see, you started off talkin' 'bout my mint habit, then next thing I knew you were rubbing up against me…"

"Aren't you forgetting that little something called you telling me to either stop talking or stop looking at you, and kissing me before I even had time to figure out what you were doing? And I'm not even going to _start _on the threat to… what was it you said? 'Take me right against the wall?' What, are you going to fake being drunk again?"

"…"

"Don't be dense. I know _you're_ not stupid, either. I _like_ hanging out with you, Wayne, okay? And not just because your breath always smell like peppermint starlights."

"…What the Hell d'you expect me to say to that?"

"Nothing. No-thing. You outrank me—yeah, sure, I get that. You're my friend. You want to be an jerk about everything else, fine, but you know, I figured something out? Your sheer and utter assholeness doesn't make me stop enjoying your damned company…"

"Oh, aren't _you_ just the sweet-talker, Princess."

"…even if I want to feed you my knuckles sometimes. If we're talking blackmail material, I _have_ pictures of you in a hospital gown, Beach Head Asleep. With your mouth open. _And_ a tube sticking out of your nose. So let me talk, okay?"

"What the fuck? Goddamn it, Cinderella, I _knew_ there was a reason you stuck around my hospital room!"

"Uh-huh. It wasn't for _your_ company, let me tell you."

"…heh."

"And it is just _twisted_ that you find that even the least bit funny, Beach Head."

"I was laughing 'cause _you _got the nurses just as riled at you as they were at me. Ain't good form to throw your shoe at the guy in the hospital bed, darlin'."

"Hey! _You_ called me 'Bed-Head Barbie!' And besides, it was your _stomach _that had staples all over it—that head of yours is hard enough that you probably wouldn't have even _noticed_ if my boot had hit!"

"You can say what you like 'bout me, but it was still damned dumb to do it in front of Nurse Ratchett."

"Well, she was ready to strangle you herself! And like I told her, if you were feeling well enough to snark and be insulting, you were damned well feeling well enough to take a shoe! What does _she_ know about you, anyway?"

"Yeah, well, we're just all kinds of twisted, aren't we, darlin'?"

"Yeah. Yeah… we are, huh?"

"…what's goin' through that brain, Cover Girl?"

"Can I ask you something? A personal question?"

"The Hell?"

"I'm serious. I really am. Um. Please?"

"…what's with that look? Okay. _One_ question."

"Was it… really an accident? The first time you kissed me?"

"…yeah. Yeah, kinda."

"…_kinda?_"

"That ain't _one _question, darlin'. Can't you count?"

"The next time your minty-fresh lips come anywhere near mine, I'm going to _bite_ you, Beach Head, I swear…"

"Oh, the _next_ time? Is _that _what you call a threat, Courtney?"

"Oh… oh, shut up. What _is_ it with you and the mints, anyway?"

"What is your problem with my mints?"

"I haven't got a problem with them, sheesh. Defensive much? I'm just curious, that's all."

"Well, get uncurious. I like 'em. An' they keep me from wanting a cig after I've been dealing with the whole damned lot of maggots that HQ keeps throwing in front of me."

"Holy crap! Beach Head, you _smoke?_"

"No. Used to."

"You quit?"

"Yeah. I swear, there are days when I've been dealing with _you_, though…"

"Oh? Was this before or after you started using my mouth to get out your oral fixation?"

"What the fu—I do not have a—what d'you mean, 'before or after,' I haven't been doin' any damned _thing_ to your mouth—"

"Hmmm. Did I just make Beach Head spazz? Huh. I think I actually did."

"You've got a death wish, _Parsnip_."

"Careful with that, Beach, people are going to think it's a pet name. So… um. The… kissing thing. Is… is that really going to continue?"

"You tell me, you're the one using it as a threat, darlin'."

"Will you _stop_ that? Look… do you feel _anything_ when you kiss me? When I kiss you? Anything at all?"

"Huh?"

"Lemme rephrase. Why, Beach? I guess… that's it. _Why?_"

"Why _what?_"

"If I really have to answer that, then you really are as stupid as those idiot greenshirts think you are. And you know what I mean, you don't get to growl."

"Fuck… _I_ don't know. Why's it even matter?"

"…don't you look at me like that, Beach. Don't you dare. You're as deep in this as I am."

"…"

"Beach…"

"Why do you care, anyway, Cover Girl? Fuck, it's just a game to you anyhow."

"…"

"…_what_?"

"…I guess that's my answer, then."

"…huh?"

"Yeah. Huh. I… don't even know why I'm surprised. Yeah. That's… that, I guess. Look, I've… gotta go. Going to be late for briefing and accounting. Whoopee."

"…"

"And… you know, I really _did_ wash off all the oil off that I could, but… it's oil. It sticks around, I guess. Maybe you're… just going to have to stand upwind for a few days. I dunno. Sorry. Not that it matters, you're going to send me out onto the obstacle course, anyway, right?"

"…damn it. _Damn it_, Cover Girl, turn around, and get your ass back here!"

"No."

"That's an _order_, Krieger!"

"Write me up, then. I'd just _love_ to see Hawk looking at that particular bit of paperwork."

"I… fuck, Courtney! I don't even know what you want me to say!"

"Nothing! You know what… don't… nothing. It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Obviously _something_ fucking matters."

"Let. Go. Of. Me."

"To paraphrase you, Princess—_no._"

"To paraphrase _you, _you've got two seconds before I scream, and five before I really _do_ feed you my knuckles… and if you think I won't—wha—_mmph!_"

"…"

"…"

"…_oh!"_

"Yeah… mmm, just like… _damn…_"

"_Mmmh_… ah. Oh. Jesus. _Oh, God… Wayne…_ yes… that's… oh, do that again…"

"…ah… fuck, Courtney… don't… say things like that."

"Mmmh? Why—_ah, yes, right there_—not?"

"'Cause I… ah… _fuck_. Okay. Okay, Cinderella… stop… _stop_."

"…"

"Jesus H. Christ."

"…you can say _that_ again. Whoo…"

"…_That _answer whatever goddamned question it is you think you're asking?"

"What?"

"And no, Princess, there was nothing _accidental_ about that."

"That was… different. I didn't know you could kiss like… that was… really… _wow_."

"Heh."

"Wayne? You do know you're… still holding me, right?"

"Anyone ever tell you you talk _way _too much?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're possibly worse at communicating than Snake-Eyes?"

"Goddamn it, what've I told you? Believe what I _mean_—"

"…'not what I say.' Yeah, well, _sorry,_ I'm no more a mindreader now than I was the last time you said it! How am I supposed to know what you mean when your signals are all over the chart? What with you making all those excuses about frat regs—"

"Excuses? They ain't excuses, Princess. Frat regs are there for a damned good _reason_, and you've seen what happens to Snake and Red when one of them loses their head over the other. Or Flint and Jaye—they're even worse, damn it. Letting that Viper run right past 'em… an' even if they weren't, Hell, they pay us to follow orders, not to run a fucking dating service, damn it!"

"Okaaay… _officially_ confused now, Ranger Man, thank you very much."

"…"

"Hmmm… wonder how long it'd take to get these boots off and in the air and aiming at your head… I can't even take a _stab _at trying to read your mind when you're not even saying anything, Beach Head."

"Look. I'm… just… thinkin'. Something the ninja said."

"The ninja? Really? Since when do you and Snake-Eyes _converse_?"

"We don't. It was just the once."

"Oh. You mean the time you tried to commit suicide-by-redhead?"

"Blazes. It was… look, okay? I told him what was going on, that everyone could see him and Red macking on each other. I told him how I saw it. The man's crazy, but he's a fine soldier, and she does a decent job even if she _is_ Intel—damned waste to see that going down the tubes just because they need a little nookie time, you know? And you know what he said?"

"'Fuck off?' You're lucky he didn't give you a knee to the groin, considering I'm pretty sure you did _not _say it that way."

"Yeah, well. He just twitched his one shoulder that way he does, and said, 'the rules mean something to me. But then she looks at me, and they don't mean as much as I know they should. And it's not because they don't matter, but because she matters more.' Or… something like that."

"Oh. Oh! I hope he's told Scarlett that. That's… just shockingly romantic, for him."

"Figures you'd think so."

"It seems pretty clear to me."

"…"

"You… really don't get what he meant?"

"No, darlin'. Trust me. I get what he meant. I get it very fucking well, thank you very much. Hell."

"…oh."

"Yeah."

"Wayne…"

"No. Don't even, Cinderella. I don't want to talk about it."

"I know _that. _Just thought I'd let you know… I'm still pissed at you."

"Hmph. Heh. Yeah. I know. You're always pissed at me. And this is going to bother me… why? You're getting extra laps tomorrow for my blood pressure alone, you know that, right?"

"Mm-hmm. Sure thing."

"…that was too damned easy. Why's your face up against my neck again?"

"Well, how about you and me and your blood pressure have dinner out Friday night? You know… off-base?"

"What—Courtney…"

"I'm not asking you to screw the damned frat regs, Beach Head. It's just _dinner_."

"…"

"…hospital pictures, remember?"

"Goddamn it, Princess! What _is_ it with you and tryin' to blackmail me?"

"Hee. You realize that if you weren't always flipping out over small things, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun? You cannot even imagine how amusing it is to have something to dangle over your head."

"One day, I really _am_ gonna turn you over my knee and spank you, brat, see if I don't."

"Huh! You know, I always thought you were kinky. All that control-freak attitude…"

"What the—oh, I'll give you kinky—"

"Promises, promises."

"Uh-huh. You think that sassy little mouth's gonna get you out of it this time? Just you wait an' see, darlin'. Just you wait and see."

"Hah! Oh… damn. What time is it? I… sorry, Beach. I really… _do_ have to get to briefing and accounting…"

"Oh. Yeah. You better get goin', then. You know those accountants. They might, I dunno, tax you or something."

"Heh. Huh. Wayne?"

"Yeah?"

"Since we're playing 'true confessions…'"

"We are?"

"Shush, Ranger Man. I'm only saying this once, okay? It… wasn't a game. And… it was _never_ an accident. Not for me."

"…yeah, sweetheart. Yeah. I… know."

"Oh."

"Hey, uh… Cinderella? Just…"

"Yes?"

"…you… gonna wear that perfume, Friday?"

"…heh."

"Okay. _What _are you snickerin' about?"

"Nothing. Just…"

"_What?_"

"…sure I will… if you bring the mints?"

~the end, and the beginning~

Start: July 9, 2009  
End: July 29, 2009


End file.
